


The Cold

by von_gelmini, witchway



Series: Messages [5]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, And Fuck Of Course Look at Who It's Written By Of Course They Fuck, Arc Reactor Kink, Avengers Compound, College Student Peter Parker, Communication, Established Relationship, Happily Ever After, Italian Tony Stark, M/M, Oral Sex, Peter Parker Feels, Peter Parker is a Mess, Spider-Man powers, The happy ending we promised, They Finally Communicate!, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Still Has Arc Reactor, Tony Stark speaks Italian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:47:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23566297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/von_gelmini/pseuds/von_gelmini, https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchway/pseuds/witchway
Summary: “No popcorn fights? All those superheroes together snuggled on the couch watching old movies that Cap would recognize?” Peter teased gently, rubbing his hand soothingly across Tony’s chest.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Series: Messages [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558027
Comments: 67
Kudos: 117





	1. Too Many Comic Books

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No popcorn fights? All those superheroes together snuggled on the couch watching old movies that Cap would recognize?” Peter teased gently, rubbing his hand soothingly across Tony’s chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>   
> 

Peter insisted. They were going to spend the weekend at Avengers HQ. Peter suggested they stay somewhere nearby, a hotel or a B&B, but Tony insisted right back. If they had to spend the weekend at the compound, he had a perfectly good suite of rooms there. The suite, like the entire damn place, was paid for by him. If he and Peter had to be there, they — as in THEY, _a couple_ — would be using Tony’s rooms there.

“What was it like at the compound, right after it was built?” Peter asked playfully, laying his head on Tony’s shoulder. He was still in the afterglow of the quicky they had on the kitchen countertop and still felt like snuggling. “Did you all room there with Thor? Was it like one long slumber party?”

Tony arched an eyebrow. “Too many comic books, kid.”

“Hey, there’s internet rumors too,” Peter giggled. “Simpson’s references. Was it just like the Teen Titans tower? Did you have breakfast together? Movie night?”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down. Yeah, no. Nothing like that. First, I hated having the tower rebranded and taken over. Not my decision. I just paid for everything. Someone else,” he said pointedly, “called the shots. Cap, Fury, Hill, anyone else but me.”

“No popcorn fights? All those superheroes together snuggled on the couch watching old movies that Cap would recognize?” Peter teased gently, rubbing his hand soothingly across Tony’s chest.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me? Yeah, I’d put in a screening room. You’ve been there.”

“You DID! You DID have movie night!”

“There were movies shown,” Tony admitted with a little side-nod.

“The internet was right for once! Did you play spin the bottle? Ten minutes in heaven?”

“What the actual FUCK?” Both eyebrows headed for the sky. “No. No way.” Tony shook his head. “What a fuckin’ nightmare _that_ would’ve been. There were parties. Sure. They always ended _so well._ Murderbots showing up at the last minute. Gotta schedule that into the next event. But those ‘revels’? Very well planned — and rare — events. Post battle. The few times all six of us were there. Thor living in another entire realm from us, y’know.”

“Damn, I wanted it to be one long slumber party involving Thor,” Peter whispered, snuggling in.

“Excuse me? You got a thing for big hunks of muscle I should know about?” Tony teased.

“No, I thought it would be a fusion of Asgardian mead-hall and American sleepover. Ale served in tankards in the pillow fort,” Peter grinned and reached up to stroke Tony’s beard. He was _glad_ there was no pilot. Hopefully he’d be able to let go of his lover before their journey upstate was over.

“Holy shit.” Tony laughed. “What the hell? The world has some _very weird_ notions.” Tony sighed. “It was tense. The year we all lived in ‘Avengers Tower’. It wasn’t even technically a year. I mean, the tower was called that for a year. Rogers moved back to Brooklyn first. No, it was Clint who ‘disappeared’ on us first. We didn’t know he had a family. Then Rogers. Nat, she was off doing SHIELD things most of the time.” Tony’s voice turned a little sad talking about her. “But she kept her floor probably the longest. Longer than Bruce, even. He and I worked well together, but the stress… he couldn’t handle big-city living. Me? I kept to myself. Tense wasn’t even a word for it when I didn’t. Bruce and I, we… I guess you’d say we came closest to ‘hanging out’.”

“In the lab? That’s what I thought, I thought it would have been cool. But not in the labs at the compound?”

“Once I managed to evict the fuckin’ lot of them out of the tower after Berlin, well, there were fewer of us then, weren’t there? Bruce was gone on his adventure with the Grandmaster. Nat… she…” Tony sighed. “That didn’t work. SHIELD was gone, so Fury and his gang weren’t a problem. At the compound? It was me and Rhodey. Rhodey doing rehab. Me working on developing better braces for his legs.”

Peter wanted to hear stories though. That fit the comic books and the happy image that Tony’s PR department worked to project of the Avengers, to keep the backlash down after the Battle of New York. As many had been calling for their heads for the collateral damage as were hailing them heroes for saving the world from the aliens. Like everything else in Tony’s life at the time, Stark Industries’ resources were requisitioned for the Avengers. ‘The OG6 who saved the world’. Of whom, he was the last remaining member. He didn’t count Professor Hulk, since he wasn’t really Bruce Banner anymore, and Thor was off with Quill and company.

So Tony spun Peter the fantasies he wanted to hear. Each one, more painful than the last. He missed Nat. He missed her the most after she’d helped Cap and Barnes’ escape. Even though she accused him of causing all the trouble. Attacked him while he was waiting for Rhodey to come out of surgery. They hardly had time to heal the wounds before she was gone. When they’d had the opportunity, he was off playing Farmer John with Pepper. Nat was running the compound. _With Steve._ So he never visited until he came back to solve Lang’s time travel problem. But yeah. It was movie nights and family dinners with the Maximoff girl who dropped a garage full of cars on his ass and damn near crushed him through his armor. Yep. Popcorn, movies, revels.

“I’ve heard _these_ stories,” Peter said gently, tracing patterns on Tony’s sleeve even as he watched Tony’s jaw tense as the tales unfolded. “These are the ones you could read in Time. But those are the PR-approved stories, the ones _your_ department wrote.” Normally he wouldn’t ask Tony these kinds of questions, especially when Tony started making that ‘sniffing’ face. Especially when Tony started shielding his body with his left arm. But Peter had promised to stop avoiding the difficult questions like he had before, so he did ask. “Are those PR stories?”

Tony sighed. “Yeah. Sorry. Slipped right back into that, didn’t I?” His laugh was bitter. “Pete, I don’t know how it was for the others. For me? It was a little slice of hell. Rogers didn’t suddenly develop his self-righteousness when he took off to find his boyfriend. His meetings never failed to point out what my character defects were. My ‘ego’. My ‘lording it’ over everyone that I was the one paying for everything, working my ass off in marathon binge sessions to make sure everyone’s kit was state-of-the-art. Getting reamed out if someone did get a shot through the armor, like when Clint took that bullet graze. My fault,” he said, gesturing to himself. “The rest followed Rogers’ lead in his attitude, same as on the battlefield. Why did I feel close to Nat? She just sat there and kept her mouth shut. Bruce too. He tried defending me a couple of times. He saw how hard I was working. But… confrontation? Not good for Mr. Green.” Tony turned away and looked out the window, watching the ground slide by. “The armor? Gained a _lot_ of new layers during those years.”

Peter massaged Tony’s bicep and gazed out the window with him.

“The post-Berlin compound was kind of a relief,” Tony continued. “Lonely, in the way that when you get used to something, even something bad, you miss it. But peaceful. Now? Not so peaceful anymore. There’s New-Cap, who was Old-Cap’s best friend and learned all about me from him, The inherited boyfriend who killed my mom. And the witch lady who hates me because one of my missiles blew up her home. That’s what’s waiting for me down there. Oh, and Fury trying to rebuild SHIELD.”

“Are the training fields you designed still being used?”

“Cap did most of the design on those. He was the one with boot camp experience. I just provided the land and a bit of technical support. But the fields are still there and they’ll be used again, once Fury’s got his recruits. Not yet though. The building projects, the fields, everything but the main building got abandoned after the snap. It’s kept up, not gone to seed, but empty, unfinished.”

“What about the labs at the compound, where you first developed the nanotech?”

“Those stayed.” Tony was proud of _one_ thing he’d done to the compound. “When the compound was first built, with SHIELD’s needs as well as the Avengers’, the labs were relegated to the basement, an afterthought. I built a new building that replicated everything I had at Stark Tower before it got the big A on the side of it.”

He shook his head and huffed a little laugh. “I guess I _do_ have the ego Cap accused me of. It’s probably ridiculous how much what they did to the tower bothered me. That damn A. SHIELD and the Avengers took over what I built. I had to buy another building for Stark Industries. The offices were requisitioned. My labs there became communal property and I couldn’t work in peace or work on anything for Stark without risking industrial espionage.

“But at least they left me my home, didn’t kick me out to use the penthouse for Fury or change it to an administration space. The two levels we live on and the one small lab level where we mess around, those I got to keep. Those I locked them the fuck out of. No one came up to our house without my permission. Which, of course, Cap _tore_ me apart over.

“They changed the design I’d had worked so hard on with the architects. God, I hated the way they took the smooth curve of the top of the tower and put that big clunky angular box jutting out, breaking that line. The way it curved? Man, _weeks_ were spent getting that mathematically correct while maintaining the aesthetics of it. The minute I dropped you off at May’s after Berlin, I was on the phone to my architect and the builders to fix that abomination stuck onto my building. Then I kicked everyone remaining out to the compound, not that there were a lot of people left.

“I actually had more peace and quiet at the compound labs during the ‘A’ phase than I had at home. That’s why there was duplication in the new building. I didn’t want the lot of them messing with the electron microscope. I kinda just hid it at the labs upstate behind a big ‘do not enter’ sign. I needed it to develop the nanotech. That I _definitely_ wasn’t going to share with the Avengers. I built the Mark 50 at the compound’s labs and no one poked their nose into what I was doing or demanded that it be ‘for the team’.

“Then my world fell apart,” Tony said, giving Peter’s very solid, not dust, hand a squeeze. “I let the compound’s labs be abandoned and the whole place was taken over by Nat and Steve.

“Oh! I did do one thing there after that. I said there hadn’t been any work done on the fields, but I was wrong. They were completely torn up for a while. I built the tunnel for a much larger prismatic accelerator. It runs underneath them, with the beam emerging in the sub-basement of the lab. That way I didn’t have to worry about replacing the core,” he said, tapping the arc reactor. “I could create enough to power the arc for twelve lifetimes.”

“That was my last project before I retired. The next, was solving Lang’s time travel problem up at the lake house and bringing it here.”

As Tony told Peter about his work at the compound’s labs, the unpleasantness of talking about the Avengers fell away. Talking tech to Peter was better than an entire pharmacy of antidepressants.

“But that accelerator? I made so many improvements scaling it up.” Tony grinned at Peter. “It is so cool to watch that beam of light… it’s much larger than the one in Malibu. When it hits the receptacle and it shifts and starts to glow? Yeah,” Tony said proudly.

“That’s what I work on when you’re at class — scaling up the arc under the tower. Been working on that since forever. When I’m ready for a prototype, I’ll need the accelerator again. I’ll teach you how to use it.”

Their tech talk excitement didn’t last, as Tony looked out the window and saw the buildings of the compound, small in the far distance. There was still the fact that Peter wanted to talk to Tony about something that could only be talked about at this emotionally complicated place. Even though no detail, not even a hint, was revealed, Tony knew it was going to be one of those _‘serious conversations’._ ‘Serious conversations’ rarely ended well. Or at least their middles were… highly unpleasant, even if they somehow did manage to end… not horribly.

But Peter insisted that the conversation he needed to have had to happen upstate. Tony knew he shouldn’t feel that way — it was Peter, and Peter would never do that to him — but it felt like a trap.

He was trying to figure out how to keep the openness he wanted with Peter at all times, and keep the mask on with everyone else. He’d do it. He had to. Nothing was going to make him go back to the way things had been. If he needed to… _he winced inwardly at the thought…_ protect himself, he’d beat a cowardly retreat to his room. Like a child. But he _would_ stay open with Peter. He’d stay _him_ and not his mask for the entire weekend.

 _Not doing a great job of it, Tony,_ he chided himself, noticing he’d fallen into silence again. But neither did Peter seem eager to talk anymore. The run-up to a ‘serious conversation’ wasn’t exactly conducive to a ‘casual conversation’.


	2. Fencing Left Handed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “With MJ and Ned, we can still relax and goof off… they’re not studying the same things I am so it’s easy not to… let them notice but… they’ve noticed. I guess I don’t make the same kinds of jokes I used to. And word on the street is New York has noticed too.”

As they neared the compound Peter asked him for the time, then resumed his position leaning against Tony’s arm and tracing patterns on his sleeve. He took a deep breath. 

“Okay, so, things have been changing with me. Like, a lot. I’ve wanted to talk to you about it for months, but there was never a good time. That’s not your fault, there were times I could have brought it up but I… like I told you, when I had to chose between sex and talking, I always chose sex. And it’s _hard_ to talk about. I guess it’s... I could have tried to talk about it over the phone or emailed you... anyway.

“I guess I’m… scared. That you’re going to say ‘Oh Well, Yeah, That’s Just Growing Up’ and I don’t… and that’s stupid…”

“Please don’t do that,” Tony reached over and brushed his fingers over Peter’s hair, interrupting him. “Nothing you feel is stupid, Pete. Nothing you say is stupid. Nothing you’re going through is stupid, okay? A self-deprecating exterior can turn quickly into an interior one. I’m kind of an expert at tearing myself up with that.”

“Ok, but it _is_ stupid. Like asking to be treated like a virgin in your bed and then still being too proud in the middle of it. Now I really wanted your advice and I’m also afraid of getting it… fuck.” He pressed his face into Tony’s arm. 

“I _won’t_ say it’s ‘just growing up’, whatever it is,” Tony said. “At fifteen you were more of a grown up than a whole lot of people I know.” 

“Okay… okay.” Peter’s shoulders sagged for a moment in relief. Then he took a deep breath and tried. Again.

“Did you ever… “ He sat up in the seat. “I mean I _know_ you didn’t because you went to MIT way early… so maybe you don’t. Because in the old days they let you skip grades. They wouldn’t do that with me, they had a whole long talk to May and Ben about it and I understood, at least I tried to. I pretended I did. But high school was like…

“In high school I stayed as busy as I could, with band and academic decathlon and all my totally illegal chemistry studies, and I guess it was okay. Not nearly as okay as it was when I got the spiderbite and I _really_ had something to do, had a million brand new things to learn and a _real_ reason for all those illegal chemistry studies, _that_ was a good thing. That made it so much better. But every time I walked into class…

“Okay I know you hate it when I do this but I don’t know how else to describe it. You know that old movie where the man becomes the Dread Pirate Roberts and now he’s the best fencer in the world and he meets the OTHER best fencer in the world and they are both fencing left handed and they’re both going at it hot and heavy and they both tell each other, one at a time, that they’re _not really left handed?_ Because both of them were trying to take it easy on the other guy, because they both know they’re the best and that’s just the kind of Good Guys that they are? I saw that on TV and that really stuck with me. That you don’t _have_ to be the best in the business, the smartest guy in the room, the whatever. The big shot. You can play it dumb and maybe write your notes backward to slow yourself down or read your textbooks upside down or maybe never study for a test so when the test comes you aren’t the first one finished and faking writing down answers so your neighbors won’t feel so bad. You can fence left-handed. So you won’t be an asshole. Be like Westley and Inigo Montoya and give everyone else a break.

“So I did that. I fenced left-handed and invested most of my time in massive Lego sets and told myself it was the right thing to do. And then the spiderbite happened and I got a whole new life and that was amazing and then you came into my life and that was the best thing that ever happened to me. And all my schoolwork came in a distant third but at least it was _slightly_ interesting the way an old video game can be interesting. If you haven’t played it in years. You know, for about half an hour.

“But I didn’t worry about that because I was _going to Columbia._ And when I got to Columbia it would _all be different._ And I could go to real classes that were _really_ hard and I could finally just start fencing regular.

“And Tony?”

He took a deep breath before he looked at his lover. 

_“It’s not getting harder._ I spent my whole first semester going… wait… what? The fuck? And then I thought no, no, this is okay, this is all freshman crap. This is _supposed_ to be like this. Not everybody gets through all four years, right? Except instead of like boot camp where they are _trying_ to get rid of you maybe… I don’t know… maybe they water it down to make you feel good about yourself and ramp up the info later… I don’t know what I thought. And now I’m well into my third year and _I don’t get it Tony…_ when does it get _hard?_ The best part is doing my assignments online — I do them in my dorm room with the keyboard upside down just for fun. Swear to god I’ve been doing my Differential Equations work hanging from my dorm room ceiling because that’s how I test the dissolve-time of my new web formula. And there is _so_ much _group work,_ I mean it’s just fucking constant. I should be glad because it does slow me down but really all it does is give me more time constraints which interferes with my patrols. Homework, at least, I can do from New York rooftops. I can’t do group work that way.”

He laughed ruefully, gazing out the helicopter window. “At least none of this is pissing my professors off. I stopped righteously fighting to NOT be the first person in class done with the work. Fuck that. Now I just turn it in when I’m done and get on with my real job.”

“Don’t _ever_ be ashamed of being the smartest person in the room, Pete. What’s happening with your education, that is a _whole ’nother_ conversation we need to have at a later date. Because it’s wrong, avoidable, and most of all, _solvable._ I can fix it with a phone call, but I doubt you want me to do that,” Tony said, smiling. “What I’ll do _instead_ is teach _you_ how to fix Columbia. Because, as brilliant as you are? Your professors _should_ be pissed off at you.”

“Okay… _okay,”_ Peter groaned. He pulled Tony’s arm around him and snuggled into his shoulder. _**“** Don’t_ swoop in and save me _just yet_ because there’s more. I know that sounds like the main thing but it isn’t.. and I’m not ready to… there’s more. This is what this weekend is about… you can swoop in and save me _later,_ absolutely, and then we’ll have awesome sex to celebrate. But please…”

He looked through the window, glaring at the view instead of glaring at himself. For weeks, for a _month_ really, he had planned this conversation, and now that it was here he was doing everything he feared the most — sounding pitiful.

“Please just let me… this is hard. 

“There’s… something else.”

Peter took a deep breath and tried again. The fields around the compound were coming into sight, maybe this would be easier to explain if they were walking down there? Peter craned his neck to see the landing pad from the window, judging the distance before he started speaking.

“People at Columbia, they aren’t… bad. The average person walking around Columbia isn’t bad. They’re just slow. I don’t know… maybe I’m just pissed off that Columbia isn’t everything I dreamed it would be. 

“But the criminals of New York City? They’re just the same as they’ve always been. Only I’m beginning to… they’re starting to look different to me now.” 

He sighed, almost growled, in frustration. Tony dealt with international terrorists, and here Peter was about to complain about street-level thugs. At least the landing pad was getting nearer, but now he feared this wouldn’t solve his problem. He wasn’t sure he could bring himself to use the term ‘The Cold’ out loud, not with Tony. It made sense in his head, but it sounded ridiculous now. 

“Remember when you called that press conference to announce to the world that I was the newest Avenger? And I asked you not to at the last second? Because I told you ‘someone has to look out for the little guy’? That was stupid. That was…” he choked on the hated word, but he forced himself to say it. “That was naive.

“On the streets when I’m patrolling, god, I used to get so… _pissed._ It seems so distant now. I was filled with all this righteous indignation, this anger that someone would pick on the ‘the little guy’. Now, I’m beginning to think that ‘the little guy’ is probably a piece of shit too.”

He didn’t have to say anything else after that. They had arrived.

The helicopter landed itself. New-Cap came to meet them. Tony and Peter stepped off the landing pad, as the helicopter was powering down, to where they could hear Sam. He asked why they were there. Tony didn’t know, so he didn’t answer, leaving his question hanging. He figured Peter would say, but when he didn’t either, Tony didn’t fill the void. It wasn’t unexpected of him to simply ignore whichever Avenger tried to engage him. To not speak or do something until he was damn good and ready to, rather than explain and justify himself to one of _them._

Peter, usually ever-cheerful and friendly, looked decidedly uncomfortable. His eyes kept scanning the distant, grassy fields beyond the central cluster of buildings. When Sam asked again what they were doing there, with a little more annoyance in his voice due to Tony’s disregard, Tony simply said, ‘we’ll be in later’, and guided Peter in the direction of his gaze, letting him take over their destination as soon as they’d left New-Cap behind.

As they walked, it seemed like it wasn’t a serious conversation that was going to happen, but that Peter needed to talk about something difficult. The location might’ve been less than desirable, but being there to listen to whatever was bothering Peter? That was exactly what he wanted, what they had talked about a couple of days ago. Tony’s defensiveness fell away. He slipped his hands casually in his pockets as they walked companionably side by side across the lawn, heading out to the farther fields of the compound grounds. 

“The _else?”_ Tony asked, trying to bring their conversation back to where it ended when the helicopter landed. 

Peter nodded, but didn’t answer that question. He seemed to be looking for something in what was nothing but open fields. Tony remembered, before the fall of SHIELD and the Avengers’ split, he and Cap and Fury discussed expansion plans into the empty land. But things happened. Then the world was gone. _His_ world was dust. Tony walked away from all things Avengers.

“Where are we headed?” Tony asked.

“I don’t know yet. I’ll know it when I see it. Thanks for this, by the way. Sam’s an asshole now. I don’t remember him being an asshole.”

“It’s not Sam, I don’t think. It’s the position. But I don’t know Sam. The only thing I know about him is that when he rolled in flight, Vision’s beam went straight through where Sam should’ve been and knocked out the War Machine armor’s arc reactor and Rhodey fell to the ground.” Tony stopped talking for a bit while they walked together. It was irrational to blame Sam. Of course he’d try to avoid the hit. But irrational or not, he blamed him as much as Vision. 

“Sam and his inherited shield and his inherited HYDRA assassin can go…” Tony shrugged. “I don’t give a fuck,” he finally said, shaking it off, literally, with a shrug. “They’re not why we’re here. So they’re a distraction. Irrelevant. We’re here because here is where you wanted to be. I’m here because you have something you need to say and I want to hear it. Pete, I’m interested, okay? In you. In everything about you. Even if I have to hear it here.”

“Ok. I’m not… god I’m not trying to be all mysterious, really. I just need some… distance. _There_ it is,” he said with a sigh of relief. “It’s still there.” 

They had rounded the south wall of the main building Peter seemed to find what he was looking for — although it looked mostly like an empty field to Tony — and they set out.

They walked for some time in silence.

What Peter had told him in the helicopter was important. But it was clearly not the ‘why’ for why they were there. 

“Peter, if all that was wrong was what’s happening at Columbia… or your feeling frustrated by the lack of challenge in your life… or even the inevitable disillusionment of realizing that the world is _massively_ full of blurred shades of grey… we’d be talking about this in bed.” 

Peter only nodded.

Tony paused and they walked a little farther. “There’s something else. And… if you think you’re ‘stupid’ for feeling a certain way… you’re not.” He paused again briefly. “I would love to know what’s going on with you. Baby, you are the most important thing in my life. There’s nothing going on with you that I don’t want to hear about.” 

“What if it was bad?” Peter’s voice was small, breathless. Looking at his feet.

“Still want to hear it. Just as much.”

“I’m getting cold, Tony,” Peter’s voice broke on the word. _“Really_ cold.”

That puzzled Tony. It was a bright, sunny day, and for early autumn, quite warm. “We can head indoors, if you’re cold.” His brow furrowed. There was something about the way he said the word ‘cold’. “That’s not what you mean, is it?” 

“It’s _me,_ Tony. It’s not Columbia or the Gangs of New York, it’s me. It’s _in_ me. That’s why we’re here. _I’m **changing**_. I know it’s not just in my head. I need the training ground equipment to quantify some things… and I guess that will make it Avengers business. I don’t know, maybe it _is_ Avengers business, at least it will be. But I needed to tell you first. I’m not… the same. And it’s affecting _everything_.”

Peter veered them right and Tony saw what they were headed to, a white berm that stood alone in the field of green. 

“With MJ and Ned, we can still relax and goof off… they’re not studying the same things I am so it’s easy not to… let them notice but… they’ve noticed. I guess I don’t make the same kinds of jokes I used to. And word on the street is New York has noticed too.

“I used to talk to criminals, I guess I was famous for it. I mean you’re the king of Snark and Banter but I guess I did pretty good. And I couldn’t help NOT lecture them. But I never hit them, because I’d hurt them, that’s why the webbing. But god I can’t talk to them anymore — I don’t feel like making jokes. I feel like punching them — so I just stay away from them. Tony, I can’t trust myself to get close to any of them now. If I need to take someone out I have to do it from a distance, sometimes from a block away, if I’m any closer I have to, I have to web them up and _keep moving._ I can’t stop to talk. I’m not… _safe_ anymore. Everything’s changed.”


	3. Cat-4 Hurricane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So… I’m not going to argue the point with you. Something’s changed. It’s a problem. It can be worked. You’ll be okay. I know you will. I absolutely know you will.”

“You haven’t hurt me,” Tony said. You’ve always been skittish about it. I’ve always been a hundred percent certain that you won’t because, on some subconscious level, even when you’re far gone, you know it’s me and you won’t hurt me. 

“But, if you’re capable of dropping off the side of the tower like that? Pete, I wasn’t just scared because I love you and, yeah, it’s scary. It’s… I’d say impossible, but you did it.”

Peter shrugged.

They were approaching the berm they had been headed to. Tony could see a white concrete wall had been built into it — the beginning of a structure that had been abandoned post-snap. They were only a few dozen meters shy of it when Peter veered left, walking toward some abandoned building materials that had been left in the field. Large wooden poles about ten meters long lay stacked beside several planks, probably pieces of a future obstacle course. Peter casually hopped on top of the short pile and walked across it. 

“The reason actual spiders can fall from the top of the tower and be fine is because of their surface area… Sorry. Tangent. That’s not the point.” Tony stopped himself from heading off on an irrelevant lecture. 

“A human-sized body _can’t._ Not even a spider-bitten one should be able to. But you _did.”_

Peter gave Tony a sideways glance and another shrug.

“So… I’m not going to argue the point with you. Something’s changed. It’s a problem. It can be worked. You’ll be okay. I know you will. I absolutely know you will,” Tony said, his first worry, as always, being about Peter.

“Oh, _I’ll_ be fine,” Peter said casually. He bent down and picked up a large wooden pole with his right hand and bounced it in his grip until he was holding it dead center. “I’m not worried about _me._

“But I’m not sure what Fury’s going to do when he finds out I can do this…”

Casually, he hurled it, javelin-style, at the berm. The pole hit the concrete dead on, on its center. As accurate as one of Clint’s darts and as easily thrown. It hit with such force that the meter-diameter post flowered out along its length, the harder center core holding just long enough for the outer to spread back along it, until the entire thing, all ten meters long of it, fell to the ground in a pile of splinters. 

Tony’s eyes widened. When he took structural engineering, they demonstrated the strength of materials under the stresses of extreme weather. From the way it shattered, Peter threw the pole with the force of a cat-4 hurricane. As easily as if he’d tossed a pencil. Tony looked at Peter in disbelief. Peter shrugged as if he’d done it a million times before and knew exactly what would happen.

His idea that what Peter had to say about his abilities should remain secret, grew resolute. There was no way he wanted anyone to know about what Peter had just done. 

“Nick Fury can bite my ass.” Tony took out his phone. He keyed in for FRIDAY to turn off the compound’s surveillance where they were walking. And to erase the existing footage of what just happened. “He doesn’t need to know anything you don’t want to tell him.”

“There is _a lot_ neither he nor the Avengers know about what my tech can do.” Tony paused. “I don’t trust him to use the knowledge in the way it should be used. Fury hasn’t done so in the past. He doesn’t have the excuse of HYDRA being in the midst of SHIELD for most of the things I found out. So if you want my advice, not that you have to take it, keep things to yourself until you’re a hundred percent certain it’s safe to reveal them.”

“Can’t. I’m tired of _guessing_ , Tony. I need to _know_.” He picked up a second pole, tossing it into the air and catching it with his left hand, where he balanced it and aimed carefully. ”It’s not like Old-Cap is around to challenge to arm-wrestle.” 

He threw the pole with more force the second time. He seemed to be aiming for the top of the berm but the tip did not clear it. The post caught the top of the hill and spun up into the air spectacularly. Peter cursed and tried again.

“I need _data._ I _need_ the training ground. I need _numbers._ Objective numbers. Things are changing. My _body_ is changing.” He picked up the third pole in his left hand and tossed it without much effort. It cleared the top of the berm by several feet and disappeared from their sight. “That’s why I need to talk to Dr. Cho. I need to know if it’s ever going to _stop.”_

Tony thought about it for a moment. “It’s okay to talk to her about all this. She can’t tell anyone what she knows or finds out about your abilities.” He looked up at Peter. “Doctor-Patient confidentiality. It’s why, when I need to see someone, she’s the one I go to. I’m not enhanced, but there are things… she needs to know things about the arc and my body that no one — well, no one but you — can know. So yeah, you should talk to her. It’s safe.”

Peter hopped down effortlessly from the pile. 

“That’s good. Because… there’s a lot of things. I’m _worried_. You said on the roof that the suit was too high-powered for my ‘neighborhood Spider-Man’ thing. But I’m worried that _any_ of the suits would be too high powered now. Not that I hit people anymore. Tony I’m _afraid_ to. You built the… _all_ of the Avenger tech is about kicking the big guys ass. I need to talk about tech that slaps the car thief upside the head and doesn’t let Spider-Man accidentally kill him.”

“I said the IronSpider was overpowered because you were determined to give it back. I wanted to make sure that what you replaced it with would protect you. But the suit will do whatever you _tell_ it to. It’s _designed_ for alien-fighting and not neighborhood-ing, but that doesn’t mean it can’t do both. _If_ you learn how to control it. Alien-fighting’s just the default setting. There are other settings. You just have to _think_ them.”

_“Think?_ That’s what scares me. And I _know_ what you’re about to say,” he countered before Tony could speak. He lifted one hand to fend off the argument. “You’re about to say you trust me but _I don’t trust me._ The nanotech is answering to my brain and… Jesus Tony... my brain has been going to some crazy shit lately.” 

“My brain does crazy shit all the time and the nanotech knows the difference. There’s a simple Functional MRI down in Bruce’s old lab,” Tony explained, reaching out for Peter’s hand. “It can crudely show your brain lighting up when you think of different things. But better than that, I have Killian’s brain scan tools that he used to develop Extremis. Kinda plundered his lab for the goodies before I let the authorities in.

“It’ll show definitively that Intrusive thoughts are processed in different parts of the brain from the thoughts that control the nanotech.” 

Peter’s shoulders sagged in relief and they started to walk again. His head dropped back and he looked up at the wide open sky as Tony talked tech. He squeezed Tony’s hand and listened as Tony described the way the IronSpider used different kinds of thought — focused, directed, and automatic — to control its abilities. How all Peter had to do was be _inside_ the owner’s manual, see the beta and my development notes. Then while he was learning how to control the suit, cut back on his patrolling until he’d mastered the suit’s capabilities, both large scale and small. 

He was suddenly overwhelmed with the beauty of the day. His lungs filled with blissful, healing air. It was as if he had been holding his breath for a long time. (Well, really since the day he had told Tony they needed to come to the compound to talk. Since then.) Suddenly he was overwhelmed with the amount of air available — but of course a field of green would be full of oxygen! Peter felt high, and a little giddy and a little foolish. _Why_ had he been so afraid to ask Tony for answers? _Of course_ the genius he was in love with would never fail him when it came to the _tech_.

“The turmoil in your brain?” Tony continued, unaware of Peter’s sudden re-discovery of the joys of breathing. “Of _wanting_ to hurt the guy more than you actually do? That’s _l'appel du vide._ Those aren’t real desires, even though they _feel_ real. There’s not a person in the world who doesn’t get those.

“But there’s also part of human nature that has negative thoughts which _aren’t_ intrusive ones. Everyone has a dark side. You learn to control it. That 3D-real-time brain scan of Killian’s also works for biofeedback. That’s the sort of thing that helped Bruce get a handle on his aggression. If that doesn’t work for you, I know a guy… I saw him for a fixed-time solution to my anxiety. There are coping mechanisms for anger, the same as there are for anxiety. It’s a skill like any other. You learn it. You don’t just go — grrr… argh… angry! — and expect the issue to go away.” 

“And we can _test_ that right? The nanotech’s reaction to my new Cold-brain? It can be tested in the _lab._ Where it’s safe, right? In case we have to work on adjustments. Some ‘Peter might really be turning into an asshole’ adjustments.”

“Yes. You know I hate to give anyone credit for the cool shit, but for all of the crazy mad scientist that Killian was, this? The brain scan device? Seriously cool shit.”

“Yeah. I’m still glad he’s dead.”

“Nice thing? He was so secretive about his super-villain evil plan that he never patented the thing. Look for Stark to be able to keep you in diamonds for the rest of your life when it comes out next year,” Tony grinned.

“You can’t now?”

Peter stopped suddenly and turned Tony to face him, cutting off his next quip.

“Wait, before you buy me anything else…”

He took both Tony’s hands in his, and tried to speak. 

“So the suit… scared me. A lot. But there’s more. I need to…”

He lost his nerve immediately and looked down at the ground. A sizable wooden splinter caught his attention and he picked it up. They started to walk again.

He crushed the wood in his hand as he tried to speak. He found another splinter, even larger, and picked it up as well.

“So I guess I have to apolog… I’m going to say that ‘s’ word you don’t like now. I’m _sorry_ for what I said on the roof. About the suit. No, wait, don’t say anything yet.”

He threw the wood towards the berm, but didn’t follow it’s progress. He looked at the ground. Absently he wiped the sawdust off his hands on the leg of his jeans. 

“Look… I… I _said_ I meant everything I said up on the roof. And I did. But I didn’t take into account that I’m also really stupid. I guess… oh god.” He rubbed his face with one hand, then firmly put his hands back into his pockets. He couldn’t hide behind them now. “I _know._ I know that when I considered breaking up with you, and I had been considering that very seriously, I thought… you might, you know. Want the suit back. And I had to make my peace with that.”

“I made it for you. Only for you. There are two nanotech suits in the world. Not for lack of Fury and New-Cap trying. But… It’s something that I gave to you.” Tony hesitated. “A piece of myself.”

“Yeah, I should have known that. And you said that on the roof. And I _heard_ you, I really did. I just didn’t process it at the time. 

“But when I got home that night, Tony, when I was in bed, I did. I processed it all. And I want to tell you…” He reached out and touched Tony’s elbow briefly. “It means the _world_ to me, Tony. Whatever else we are, outside of everything we are now, it means _so much_ to me that you think of me as an Avenger like Clint and Nat. It means _everything_.

“So when you said I could… “ He stuffed his hands into his pockets, hiding them. The urge to reach out for Tony was even harder to fight. 

“When you said I could make my own suit, without you involved, well, that meant a lot to me too. But that was…” He choked on the word. He couldn’t make himself say ‘immature’, but it _was_ immature, like a child running away from home and planning his budget based on his weekly allowance. So he tried again.

“…But that was not-smart. I mean I _do_ want to play with the web formula, because I _always_ want to play with the web formula, but I can’t **make a suit** without you. Everything you said was right. I _am_ Spider-Man. The world expects me to be bulletproof.” 

“Well you _can_ play with the web formula without the nanotech,” Tony said with a quick smile. “But it’ll be cooler with it. Because… you’ve really got something there, Pete. I wanna let you at the microscope — I put a second one in my lab at home — and get it down to where you understand it inside and out. And yeah…” He _seriously_ didn’t play well with others. “That’s gotta be done with me, at least in part.

“But you’ve _got_ to be bulletproof, baby.” Tony turned and faced Peter, taking his hand and holding it tight. “I can’t lose you.” 

Peter nodded. Then he nodded again. Then he spoke, and his voice was a lot smaller than he had intended. “So, do you forgive me? For what I said?”

Tony sighed. He hadn’t meant to. He meant to simply say ‘yes’. Because of course he forgave Peter. He’d always forgive Peter. It just took him a moment to answer. To ‘process’, like Peter had said.

“Yes. I don’t think there’s much that I _wouldn’t_ forgive you for, Pete. I know I hurt you. You had every reason…” He hesitated again. “But that? I’m not gonna lie. It was rough. You weren’t just rejecting the suit…” 

“I was trying to push you away as far as possible. That night I was feeling really… bought. Because I felt so _lonely_. And feeling lonely meant I really started thinking how many things I can do for myself, already did for myself. And trying to pretend I could just keep on going without you. But I can’t. Even if the suit blew up tomorrow, _**I**_ can’t go on without you.” 

“I know I did a hell of a lot to deserve it. But the feelings were complicated.” He gave Peter’s hand a squeeze. “A lot less complicated now.”

“Okay. So, I said I’m sorry. And here’s what I’m going to do. Uh… damn. I have to tell you something else.”


	4. Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re fired as my father-figure. And also, thanks, but I’m firing you as my mentor, too. And no offence? But looking to you as my moral compass? Probably a terrible idea in the first place.”

“So, this is going to sound unrelated but… hear me out.

“I’d been asked to go to this group that meets at this really liberal church; it’s where all the gay advocacy groups meet. Anyway long story short, some people I go to class with swear by it, and I was just so damn angry and lonely and frustrated and _weird_ so I figured it couldn’t hurt. Okay that’s a long involved story but the point is I was talking to some guys there and they said if your dad leaves early? You’ll never get to find out how imperfect he was. And I was like, ‘Wow, my dad died when I was like four, so do I win?’ And they’re like, “No, now your view of guys is screwed up forever because you’ll never know that he wasn’t perfect, that there’s no such thing as the perfect guy, because you didn’t ever get to know your father as an adult.” And I don’t know, none of them even _had_ dads so what did they know, but I thought about it a lot…”

The berm was directly in front of them now. One perfect single wall, about forty feet long and fifteen feet high. Peter dashed across the wooden splinters that littered it and, with that short running start, leapt to the top, landing on his hands. He then walked across the top of the wall on his hands, continuing the conversation upside-down.

“I talked about it with Ned and he says it’s true, once you realize your dad is NOT perfect, but just a human guy who makes mistakes sometimes, it changes _everything_. And I wondered about that. My dad was just a normal guy in the end, a guy who must have screwed up sometimes, like everyone. And Ben…” He shifted his weight to his left hand and, right hand behind his back, began hop-walking forward inches at a time.

“Ben died. And that was my fault. And I’ve learned to live with that. But Ben wasn’t perfect either; he was pretty amazing but he wasn’t perfect. And I remember when he died, everybody was all like, ‘Oh no what will little Peter do without his father-figure oh gosh!’ And I thought ‘I’ve got to be fine, I _had_ a father-figure, which is more than a lot of kids, and he was pretty cool, and he’s gone now and I’ll just do without. Just like half the kids in my grade do. That’s no big deal’.

“And then I met you.”

Effortlessly he stretched his feet in front of him, placing his toe on the ground in front of his hand, landing it half-on, half-off the edge of the wall. He righted himself and then stood, looking down at Tony. He paused for a moment.

“I would have sworn I didn’t need any more fathering when I was fifteen, Tony. If anyone had asked ‘Is Tony your father-figure?’ I would have said **‘No!** _Seriously!?’_ I mean I made my first suit by myself. I made the webbing and the shooters and all of it all by myself and I became a crime-fighter, all by myself. I didn’t need anybody, and I was pretty proud of that. And I didn’t tell a soul, and I was pretty fucking proud of that too. I really thought I was doing fine without any father-figure around.

“Then you showed up.

_“…And I had no **right** to draft you as a father-figure, Tony, _and I absolutely 100% did. You _never_ volunteered for the job; you would have turned me down if I had asked. So that one’s on me.

“I _never_ should have asked you to be my father-figure AND my lover. Because a father-figure is perfect… and a lover… a lover is a _person_. A real-life person who farts and belches and leaves the toliet seat up and says stupid things without meaning to and generally acts like a shit sometimes. An imperfect person, just like me. _And that’s okay_. That’s how it’s supposed to be.

“So, you’re fired.”

He leapt from the wall — which is to say he aimed his head downward and fell. He caught himself on his hands, then flipped back onto his feet. Turning around he looked Tony in the eye and spoke.

“You’re fired as my father-figure. And also, thanks, but I’m firing you as my mentor, too. And no offence? But looking to you as my moral compass? Probably a terrible idea in the first place.”

Tony’s eyes crinkled with a held-in smile. Truer words had never been spoken. Moral compass? Him? Yeah. Not the greatest of ideas.

Peter looked down at his hands, now covered in wooden splinters, and brushed them off. “It’s because… it’s because I _need you Tony._ I need you now more than I ever have. But I need you as an _equal.”_

When Peter stood straight after brushing his hands clean, Tony noticed it. Something he’d been _almost_ noticing but the image he had in his mind of Peter didn’t let him notice. Peter stood straight… and was as tall as he was. Exactly.

“That’s what I brought you out here to say.” he said as he put his arms around Tony’s neck, leaning in to whisper.

“I had to tell you about ‘The Cold’, and I had to bring you _here_ to show you that it wasn’t all in my head. It’s about my body changing but… it’s about _you too._ You’re totally right, the world isn’t what I thought it would be and, sure, that’s just life. I’m trying to tell you that it’s also about… I was colossally angry at you, I was ready to break up with you. For not being perfect _. And that’s my fault,_ not yours.

“And _I’m scared,_ Tony, because I don’t know who I’m going to be when this is all over. I don’t know if I’m still going to be someone you’ll want to be with… I hope I will be… all I know is, whatever happens…” His voice broke again. “I’m going to need you on my side.”

Tony settled his hands lightly on Peter’s waist. They looked at each other eye-to-eye.

“Where else would I be, Peter? That’s where we belong. On each other’s side. You have my love. And that’s something that you will have…” The terms of mortality change when you’ve been dead a few times. “…Eternally. I love you. There’s nothing that will ever change that. I will be there, wherever you need me to be.”

Peter’s shoulder’s sank in relief. He closed his eyes, sighed, and stepped forward to lean his forehead down onto Tony’s shoulder.

The kid he’d taken to Berlin all those years ago wasn’t just grown up, he was gone. He never wanted to be a father-figure to Peter. This… this is what he wanted.

They turned to walk toward the main building, in the far distance, across the field. Tony put his hands in his pockets. Peter reached over and took Tony’s wrist, drawing his hand out of its pocket and putting it into his own. They walked hand in hand in silence for a while. It was Tony who broke it.

“I knew what I wanted when I left Berlin. I needed another person in the fight. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I’d fought side by side with these guys in New York and after. But I couldn’t just let them go. There were consequences to be faced. I needed them held, not hurt. Which _you_ could do. I needed something, you had it, and I had the negotiating tactics of a forty-six year old businessman versus a fifteen year old high school kid. You _were_ coming with me to Berlin.

“But that changed within _**minutes**_ of meeting you, Pete. It’s not just since we got together, but from the first moment I met you — everything was so fast, you gave me whiplash.

“God, I was so conflicted. Here you were, this brilliant _superhero._ Something needed doing and you could do it. There was the mission.” He remembered his own words to Pepper a very long time ago. _“That’s_ what got you going. Not building the retro-tech and certainly not the drudgery of high school. It was doing the very unique things that only you can do.” Their hands together, Tony let them swing, joined, between them as they walked.

“You were doing them _on your own,”_ Tony said in wonder. “You were adult in so many ways. Not the least of which, I had to keep reminding myself, was the way the spider changed your body. You were fifteen and you looked like you were maybe nineteen or twenty. While I have done many morally dubious things, and downright immoral things, in my life, _that_ has never been one of them,” he said firmly. “But you were doing things that no kid your age could possibly do. Looking like no kid your age could possibly look. I couldn’t reconcile the feelings I had for you with the absolute certain knowledge that I would _never_ touch a kid of fifteen. There aren’t neat categories for what was going on with me. None of which was your problem.

“You were FIFTEEN. And god… you stood up to _**me,**_ right there in your bedroom. There are guys in their forties who don’t have the balls you had when you webbed me to your doorknob.

“You were FIFTEEN. And I had… very, very inappropriate feelings about you. Not sexual, not then, but I felt closer to you than most of the other Avengers.

“You were FIFTEEN. And at fifteen, the only relationship a man of forty-six can have with a kid that age, is a fatherly one. So, despite not feeling _anything_ fatherly towards you, I moved into that space. Only… what you were saying about imperfect fathers? Yeah. Kinda never had any _model_ to _role_ that on.”

Peter nodded as Tony spoke. Nodded, and grinned a little. The look on Tony’s face when Peter had webbed him to the doorknob, well, it was a memory he would treasure forever.

“I’m about as fucked up as a father-figure as you could’ve possibly turned to. I gave you exactly everything you ever dreamed of and then, over something that I should’ve _talked_ about to you as my _teammate,_ I acted like Howard. I yanked what you needed away instead. And I almost got you killed.”

Tony walked silently for a while. He watched his feet moving on the grass. Still holding Peter’s hand — perhaps a little tighter.

“So, me as a father? _Worse_ than Howard. At least he never left me so stripped of everything that I nearly _died,_ thinking I’d been abandoned. God, Pete. I will never be able to tell you how fucked up that was. If there was _anything_ in my life I could go back and change, I’d go back and change that.

“But then, in true Howard Stark fashion, when I fucked up… instead of _dealing_ with the fuck up, I go and plan your whole life out for you. I throw you a one point four BILLION dollar bribe that you weren’t ready for and never asked for, in hopes of gaining your forgiveness. Then on top of that, I dangled something you’d dreamt of, but also weren’t ready for. _I planned your whole damn life out._ I was about to do the equivalent of shipping you off to MIT at fifteen. Throwing you into the mess that was Avengers post-Berlin, post-Siberia… at FIFTEEN. God!” Tony said angrily. He twisted his head sharply away, his mouth drawn tight in disgust with himself. He took a deep breath. None of that mattered. It was over. They’d moved on.

“You were stronger than me in so many ways. You saved _yourself_ when I took your first dream away. You gave _yourself_ what I failed to give you. Then, instead of just letting me drag you into a future you weren’t ready for… you told _ME_ no. Flat out told Tony Stark ‘no thanks I don’t need the future you’ve designed for me, I’ll make my own’.”

“Oh, shit. I _did_ do that, didn’t I?”

“God, Pete,” Tony said. He looked at Peter as if he was the most amazing, wonderful thing in the universe. Because he was. “You absolutely blew me away. Which caused _so many_ more conflicted feelings.” Tony paused, and they kept walking.

“Because…” He stopped their walk in the middle of the neatly-kept lawn. He looked down at their twined hands and lightly rubbed his thumb against the back of Peter’s. “That’s when I started to fall in love with you.”

Peter started a little at the revelation, but he didn’t speak. He walked into Tony’s body and touched his head to the man’s shoulder, but he didn’t speak. They kept walking.

“Again, not pervy… I just… Peter, you took hold of me in ways… I admired the hell out of you.” He stopped again to make his point. To make sure Peter _understood_ his point. “Do you know how many people I _admire?_ ONE.”

Tony swung their hands once as they headed back. The main building was in sight. “So what does that feel like? When it’s a fifteen year old kid?” He gave a slight shake of his head, feeling again that incredible struggle that went on inside him after he dropped Peter back off at May’s.

“We came back from Berlin — and Siberia — and you stood up to me. But you did it honestly. No deceptions, no dithering, no evading. You just said ‘no’. Not lying to ‘spare my feelings’. When you walked out of here, you didn’t just have my admiration, you had my _trust._ There’s a couple more people I trust than I admire. Three. Including you. That’s it.

“And, as I’ve been saying… you were fifteen fuckin’ years old. Then after? I can’t _even_ touch what the things that happened after that did to me when I thought about you. What happened on Titan… I… I _can’t.”_

He _couldn’t._ Not Titan. Even though _years_ had passed. Feeling Peter turn to dust in his arms. Watching the boy hold on with every bit of his spider-strength so he could reach up to comfort _him_ as he was being torn apart, what felt like over and over again, as Tony held him. And he couldn’t even say how _good_ the kid was. How much he admired him. How much… he loved him. To hear Peter _apologize_ for leaving him… to say those two meaningless words _and mean them…_ He _couldn’t._ He went back to a time when he _could._

“I loved you when you walked out those doors.” He nodded towards the building they were headed towards. “You were fifteen and the only way that someone my age was supposed to love someone yours was as a father,” Tony reiterated with a wry laugh. “I am _SO_ not father material.” Tony stopped their progress. He turned and faced Peter directly. “You can’t fire me, I _quit,”_ he said, smiling widely at him.

Peter sighed in content, overwhelmed with relief. He didn’t realize until this moment how afraid he had really been. Up until they had landed at the compound he told himself his biggest secret, his biggest worry, had been The Cold. Now he leaned forward and touched their foreheads together, speechless. He wasn’t sure he _could_ speak.

Finally, they parted and began to walk again. “I don’t want to tell you what to do. I don’t want you to need my permission to live your life. I never wanted that from the moment you left here. I wanted what I’ve always been looking for — someone to fight _alongside_ me. Someone I could trust. Someone I could look to and see… myself, sure… we’re a lot alike… but Pete, you are…” Tony shook his head. “I don’t want you to be like _me._ I want to be like _you.”_

Peter pulled Tony’s hand up to his mouth and kissed the back of it.

There was a little stretch of silence while Tony tried to put his thoughts into words that made sense.

“I want us to be like _us._ Because that’s the only way I can be now. An equal part of an ‘us’. When we need _anything…_ I want to look to you and I want you to look to me. What we need at the moment might not always be there. We’re imperfect. But I want to be your ground. I want you to be the home built upon that ground. I’m too… Tony looked away, off into the distance for a long time before speaking again.

“There’s too much _damage_ for me to ever be able to give pieces of myself to other people — everything that’s left in me… I can give it to you because _I love you.”_

Peter stopped them from walking and pulled Tony closer. He lay his forehead on Tony’s shoulder again, locking his hands around the back of Tony’s head.

“I love you, Tony.”

Those ‘three little words’ that he hardly ever said before were now so _lacking,_ even though he said them often after he and Peter got together. Since seeing Peter come back on the battlefield, since seeing Peter fade from his vision as he died, since seeing Peter holding on to him, refusing to let him go — everything since Tony had come back to life boiled down to those three little words: _I love you._

Tony rested his head against Peter’s that was on his shoulder. “There’s nothing of me that isn’t yours.”


	5. Breaking In The Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony was the lord of the manor — a haunted manor.

They ignored the entire rest of the building, ordered Chinese, and ate dinner in Tony’s suite. After, Tony noticed that Peter still seemed to have something on his mind that wasn’t quite making it out of there. Their first walk had led the boy to opening up so Tony suggested another one out in the night air, away from the light pollution of the city where the sky was just filthy with stars.

They discussed the plans for the next day. What measurements of his abilities Peter thought he needed. What tests Tony thought might get him those results. And both of them making mental lists of what physical exams to ask about, what Doctor Cho might think Peter needed.

When they walked back into the building, Sam was sitting in the common room with some sort of paperwork spread out on the dining table in front of him. Tony completely ignored him, as he always did. Let the guy send whatever it was to Stark Industries, let the accountants deal with it, Tony had zero interest in the whole venture anymore. Cap used to call him out for ‘lording it’ over him because of who paid the bills. He had no idea how easy he had it compared to his successor. Any pretense Tony had of the Avengers being a team that he was a part of, was gone. He _was_ the lord of this goddamn manor and he answered to no one in it.

New-Cap glared at them both, but mostly at Tony. Probably something to do with said paperwork. Peter noted it all with detached curiosity. The weighty conversation he had meticulously planned was finally over, and Tony was still holding his hand. He felt as if a building-sized weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Peter had asked him for a tour of the compound. It had been years since being there and even then, he saw very little of it.

“Things are boring here.” Tony let his voice drop, quiet. “The quote-unquote common room is just that… common. Nat’s… the office has the holographic conferencing that Stark made. More boring. You’ve worked on more complex equipment with FRIDAY.

“Through there, though…” Tony nodded at what looked like a wall but was actually doors. “That’s where the quantum tunnel I built is. Though it’s much more complicated than the name implies. Nothing at all like Pym’s device. His sent you hurtling off to god knows where. What’s back there is a precision piece of equipment to work with the Time GPS and…” Tony broke off his explanation. While he was immensely proud of the science behind it, the end result was…

Tony was the lord of the manor — a haunted manor.

“The labs we were talking about on our way here are more interesting,” he said, turning his back to the massive doors. “We’ll see them tomorrow when you visit Dr. Cho,” Tony said. “While I have had a finger in a lot of the pie here, it hasn’t been actively for a long while. Not getting back to it either. When SHIELD is up and running again, I plan on letting Fury handle the entire thing, including funding this shitshow.”

Sam left him alone instead of endlessly haranguing him. The glare was tolerable and expected. Barnes was nowhere to be seen, neither was Scarlet CarPark. And best of all, Fury and his minion squad weren’t onsite yet. Tony knew that Dr. Cho and Dr. Selvig and whoever else had set up camp in the mostly unused labs would be there. Scientists were a predictable and obsessive lot. Free, fully equipped, lab space and a nearly unlimited budget? Where else would they be?

Once he and Peter left the common area and headed down the hall to the suites, Tony had escaped. When the door shut behind him, he felt the world’s weight slip away. Tony settled his hands on Peter’s waist and the kid rested his head on his shoulder.

“Sanctuary, baby,” Tony whispered against Peter’s hair, taking in the boy’s familiar, soothing scent. “We can leave the problems out there, yours and mine. Here it’s just the two of us. He ran his hands up over Peter’s back and he felt him relax.

“We don’t have to have sex,” Tony said, softly.

He could go either way, but the day had been an emotional one for Peter. After an emotional week for them both. He wanted the kid to know that, while their sex life was amazing, and one of the things that probably kept them together during the rough patch, Tony didn’t want it to seem like an obligation. The ‘escort’ accusation still guiltily stung a little. He’d never meant to make his love feel that way.

Peter, however, looked horrified.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he all but gasped, then dissolved into giggles at the sound of his own voice. He threw his arms around Tony, hiding his face to cover his embarrassment, pressing his whole body against Tony’s to make his point.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… I mean… I just… I kinda _need_ you tonight, Tony.”

“Time to break in the bed?” Tony said with a smile.

Peter started a little, looking at Tony in alarm.

Tony undressed, leaving only his boxers, then he climbed onto the bed. “C’mere baby,” he said, rolling onto his side, holding his lower arm out waiting for Peter, who had only taken off his shoes and socks, to nestle into it.

“I want you in bed with me,” Tony said with a little smile as Peter stood awkwardly, looking uncertain. “Let me see that body you wanted to show me…”

Peter smiled, feeling relief (and maybe a little pride) and came close to the edge of the bed. Looking Tony in the eye he took the bottom of his t-shirt and pulled it, slowly, over his head. And if he stretched his arms, flexing his biceps just a bit, was he really to blame?

Tony gave Peter a long, slow look up and down his rather amazing torso. The kid’s abs were a thing of dreams. The first time he saw Peter without his shirt made him seriously question his morality.

“Yep. Still beautiful. Still Peter.” The look gained heat. “Still mine.”

Peter fell into Tony’s arms and pulled him close, shamelessly diving his head into his favorite place in Tony’s neck, hiding there and holding his lover in a crushing embrace. It had been a very long day, it had been a very long week, and suddenly Peter felt like he hadn’t actually slept since the night Tony returned from Australia.

But he was still alarmed at the idea that he was going to “break the bed.”

“You… know… nothing’s changed, right? I’m as strong today as I was last night and the night before… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you… I brought you _here_ because I needed you to know it wasn’t all in my head…”

“Baby, whatever we find out _this_ is…” Tony ran his hand flatly down the front of Peter’s body. At the waistband of his jeans, his fingers twisted the button free and pulled down the zipper, but went no further.

“Whatever you’re afraid might be going on in here…” He ran his fingers up into Peter’s wind-ruffled hair and brought him in for a slow kiss. “I am still going to be exactly where I am right now. Holding you close. Wanting you. In love with you.”

“Oh god Tony…” Peter murmured, then sighed in frustration as he realized he was doing it again. Listening to the incredible things Tony was saying and responding with the same three words. But there was no helping it.

But as Tony had said, words meant nothing compared to deeds. And so Peter _did_.

Kissing Tony back Peter took Tony’s hand and boldly put it exactly where he wanted it. Then he put both hands on his lover’s face and, still kissing deeply, lay back and gave himself over.

Tony cupped the rise of Peter’s cock, still clothed in his jeans and underwear. He kneaded gently over the boy’s still-soft bulge, rubbing and caressing the shape of it, moaning into Peter’s kiss. The kid could still take him apart with just a kiss. It confused him, but he recognized, _and admitted,_ his need to be desired as well as to be desirous.

He curled his arm up behind Peter’s neck, fingers tangling in his soft hair, as they kissed, one chasing after the other. His other hand went from caressing _over_ the soft, worn denim, to find its way into the waistbands there. Touching his swelling cock, trying to wrap his fingers around the shaft. He stopped and gave the side of Peter’s jeans a little downward tug.

“Too many clothes,” he murmured against the kid’s lips.

Peter immediately obeyed and soon jeans and underwear were on the floor.

Tony’s hand closed around what he’d been seeking. He slid his leg between Peter’s, moving the lower one closer to him, the upper one a little further away. When the boy was fully hard, his hand sought the warmth between his legs. His fingers found their way behind Peter’s balls to massage between them and his opening, but stopped with that gentle touch.

Peter obediently parted his legs for Tony’s hand, moaning in appreciation, slipping his leg higher over Tony’s thigh, giving him more access. He longed to take Tony’s hand and move it inside him, _god_ he needed this badly, but he kept his hands combed through Tony’s hair and let himself be touched.

Tony gave a little moan and slowly, wantingly, his hips writhed against Peter. “Oh yes,” he said at Peter’s boldness.

He took Peter’s leg higher and raised it the rest of the way until it draped over his waist… and Tony didn’t want to lose this. Both of them tangled up in each other. Instinctively, he reached for the far pillow — which on this smaller bed was a lot closer — and he found… nothing. Damn. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually slept in this bed. And if he did, it most definitely was alone. Of course the lube wasn’t where it should be. But he knew that, even sleeping here alone, he had some in the nightstand drawer.

He kept them in the exact same position and tried to reach it. Too far away. He grinned at Peter as he pushed his leg back down but clung more tightly to his chest. He rolled toward the nightstand, still holding Peter, rolling him back on top.

“I’ve never slept with anyone in here before.” He gave a little shrug as he rolled them further, putting Peter on the opposite side to him. “Never fucked anyone here,” he added, dropping the euphemism. Dammit he still wasn’t within reach. He mentally cursed his fondness for overly large beds. Tony laughed as he rolled once again, putting Peter beneath him. He held his weight up though and this time, he opened the drawer and got what he was looking for.

Peter began giggling, breathless and silent.

“On the way back, baby,” Tony said, joining his own giggle with Peter’s. It was an absurd situation and about as far away as his typical smooth, suave magical appearing lube trick as you could get. Quickly, he rolled them back to their original position. He sighed when he got there. Tony brushed his hand lightly through the kid’s hair. He kissed his forehead with a quick, light kiss. “We get to christen a new bed that’s never been fucked in.” A little groan escaped him. “It’s only gonna be yours. Ours.”

“Oh, _that’s_ what you meant by ‘breaking it in… I thought you… I thought you were afraid I was going to _break_ the… oh god.” Peter couldn’t really speak anymore. He was too busy smiling. He was the first person Tony had sex with on this bed? As he wrapped his legs around Tony's waist he felt like laughing for joy.


	6. Batman and Robin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his second run, he was keen to know if he had matched the running speed of Captain America. And frustrated to know that Tony didn’t have the information. “But… wasn’t he Stark Tech? Don’t you have ALL that information? Nevermind, I can google it on my phone. There’s sixteen Old-Cap wikis at least.”

In the shower afterwards they held each other, whispering endearments and words of affection, laying out their plans for the next day. Peter had been exhausted a half-hour before, but became more animated as he listed the equipment he wanted to utilize and why, talking about it even after they had snuggled into bed for the night.

“I need to know how much I can bench press, and I want to clock my speed on the track. I honestly have no idea how fast I run because it’s faster traveling in New York by web. And what was that laser-grid room that Nat and Clint trained in? I always heard stories about it but never saw it. _And_ the training room course? With those weird short hurdles where all those turrets are trying to kill you? When Fury had me train there I got across in 3.57 minutes — and I’ve got to admit, I was fencing left-handed that day. Everyone was looking at me _weird_ and it made me nervous. I _know_ I could break records in there. Oh! Oh! And the Evaluation Room?! The one Cap called ‘The Grinder?’ I have _got_ to have another go at that one. The first day they put me in there I tripped over my own two feet because Nat told me you were on the observation deck. Added a whole forty seconds to my time. _You_ don’t make me nervous anymore.”

“Those things are all still here. There’s data for what others scored on them to provide a baseline for you. And then, Dr. Cho has instruments that can objectively test your physical abilities.” Tony settled Peter in close, the way they usually slept, big spoon little spoon. He kissed the soft curls at the back of Peter’s neck. “You’ll get your answers, Pete.”

They were both pretending to fall asleep. Eventually it would come, but they were both restless and worried. Peter about the increase of his abilities, Tony about keeping that increase secret. Other than Peter, he trusted no one. And while he did trust Peter, he also recognized the kid was still incredibly naive. 

He was getting less so, but he was no match for the duplicitousness that lived within the Avengers and SHIELD and those adjacent. Protecting Peter was Tony’s first, and only, priority. And he was already planning the steps he would need to take to do that. In the morning, while Peter was in the shower, getting ready for the day’s trials, he would set his own surveillance and blocks to anyone else’s. Scrub the servers of anything they collected since the helicopter landed… Tony was still running possibilities when sleep finally came.

The next day Peter was up and dressed before Tony. He was too nervous for breakfast. While they waited for Dr. Cho to become available, Tony took him for a tour of the prismatic accelerator that he used to create his new element. Alone in the vast, long room Peter raced up and down the length of the accelerator on his hands. 

Tony saw Peter nearly vibrating with nervous excitement. “Why don’t you take a run through the tunnel? It goes underneath the buildings, underneath the fields. Big circular thing. Like running a really long lap. I should time you.”

Peter insisted on running it once at an easy pace (he called it the I’m-late-for-the-bus speed) and then again while ‘pushing it’. The lap around the entirety of the accelerator was seventeen miles. After his second run, he was keen to know if he had matched the running speed of Captain America. And frustrated to know that Tony didn’t have the information. 

“But… wasn’t he Stark Tech? Don’t you have ALL that information? Nevermind, I can google it on my phone. There’s sixteen Old-Cap wikis at least.”

“That was Howard’s work, not mine. And Cap was _never_ allowed down here.” It came out with more heat than he’d intended. “No one was, except Bruce. He helped with the calibration. 

“You need to stop comparing yourself to Rogers,” he said, annoyed. “Arm wrestling with him, running his laps… Barnes’ metal arm is stronger than Cap ever was, and you’ve already stopped his punch. Running? It’s not good to compare yourself, an enhanced person, with someone created out of a test tube.”

“My spider was created out of a test tube. It’s not fair anyway, I know Cap _trained_ in running. He was famous for it. And I use my leg muscles like, never. I’m a webswinger. 

“And Tony?

“Can we run Nat’s laser-course thingy without staff?

“Yeah, that’s doable. Clint’s kept it active. He’s been training someone,” Tony said with a shrug, not impressed with Legolas’ attempt to replace himself now that he’d retired.

Tony went with Peter as he worked through the training exercises that were still active. Monitors were shut off, no one else allowed into the rooms, much less the entire levels they were using. He didn’t want anyone to have records of the things Peter was tested. But he kept them. Noting times and success/error ratios on his secured-by-FRIDAY phone. 

Just by the numbers, the kid was scarily agile. Easily put Clint’s and even Nat’s scores to shame. Fast, he was faster than the current (non-enhanced) hundred meter record holder, but Tony expected that. He was surprised that he didn’t hit the mark for Cap’s hundred meter time. But then Cap was always good at running away. 

They spent the most time inside “Nat’s laser-course thingy” where Peter insisted on running the same course repeatedly.His time was good, but kept insisting on a chance to do it better. “Just one more time,” he asked after each completion. They kept ‘one more timing’ it until well past lunch. Peter only took a break because Dr. Cho had finally texted Tony that she was free from her lab. His endless suggestions dried up as he nervously followed Tony toward her office. She met them in the courtyard, accompanied by an assistant. 

“Helen, this is Peter Parker,” Tony said once they’d arrived in Helen’s office. He put his arm around Peter’s shoulders. “Peter is also the Amazing Spider-Man,” he said, teasing Peter with the name the tabloids gave him. “We have some questions. Medical. Enhanced Individual medical.”

“Wait… _the_ Spider-Man?” she said, her face lighting up. “Oh I’ve read so much about you. Oh, I have a million questions… but…” she said, changing course suddenly when Tony raised an eyebrow. “Peter, allow me to introduce my associate Mr. Nguyen. He just completed his Masters in Biomedical Science at Columbia. You probably have a lot in common…”

Peter took the hint and shook hands with the good looking Vietnamese man. Shooting a nervous look at Tony, he followed the man back to the courtyard, leaving Tony and Dr. Cho in her office to talk.

“Spider-Man?” she whispered the moment Peter left. “You didn’t warn me that this was about _Spider-Man_ , Tony,” she hissed. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me? I could have been free _hours_ sooner.”

“Telling you would’ve been a risk. The reason we’re here, as opposed to elsewhere, is because Peter’s not the first enhanced individual you’ve worked with. 

“Only I’m going to need assurance that what gets discussed goes no farther than you. No records can be kept. Otherwise this can’t happen. And Pete needs for this to happen. There’s a sizable grant in it for you if you can keep an even more stringent standard than your basic doctor/patient confidentiality.”

Helen’s smile disappeared. “There _isn’t_ a ‘more stringent’ standard than the basic doctor/patient confidentiality, Tony. And SHIELD is already paying me handsomely to be the team doctor. You don’t have to bribe me to do my job.”

“SHIELD paying your salary is exactly what I _am_ worried about. There can be no divided loyalties. This isn’t for SHIELD. It isn’t for the Avengers. This is for _me_. And for Peter. No one else.” Tony paused. “Not even you.” 

He paced nervously. It was one thing to trust Helen with his life, which he had done absolutely after his ‘death’, but it was another entirely to trust her with Peter’s life. 

“Lately, Peter’s abilities have been changing. That has him worried. What he brought me here for, what I suppose he’s looking for, is a metric for his abilities. He has other questions as well. That might require DNA samples, blood work, things like that. He’s mentioned having an objective analysis of what his enhancement is doing to him.

“Whatever samples or blood work you take to determine that, there can be no holding anything back for your own experimentation. Privacy. Absolute. Without that, I’ll figure out another way to get Peter the data he needs. But honestly, I’d rather trust you with this. _If_ I can trust you.”

_“Excuse_ me? Tony? I’m a _doctor._ The moment I take on Mr. Parker as my patient everything we talk about falls under doctor/patient privilege. Even if it wasn’t a legal issue, it’s my _job._ No one will have access to what Mr. Parker and I talk about,” she said firmly.

She turned away, looking into the courtyard through her office’s large window where Peter was talking to her assistant. “Including you.”

“Look, I know Fury doesn’t give a damn about what standards the world outside his own little kingdom has. Not telling me? I…” 

He was taken aback. He hadn’t considered that he wouldn’t be informed about everything to do with Peter. He was used to having total access to Peter’s life. Okay, it was mostly non-consensual total access, but not knowing something so important about the most important person in his life?

“I’m sorry, was he made your legal ward, Batman?” she asked. Then she shrugged. “Even in that case, it doesn’t matter. Robin is an adult now. What you want to know you’ll have to ask him. As he’s your partner, I’ll certainly I’m prepared to discuss with both of you whatever he wants me to share. But understand, I’m going to be _his_ doctor…”

Tony smiled at the ‘ward’ comment, but he was impressed. If she was willing to exclude _him,_ she’d be willing to exclude any of the people he was worried about. “I can live with that,” he finally said. 

“You’ll be pressured to break those standards. I don’t know who will apply the pressure, but it will come.” Tony knew he was sounding paranoid. But he also knew his paranoia had a firm basis in history. “Keeping these secrets? That’s not covered by any professional standards. That’s covered by your word.” 

“Tony,” Helen said quietly, taking a step closer to him until they were face to face. “Your murder-bot tried to kill me, and memebers of my staff. _That_ scared me. Fury? Fury doesn’t scare me.”

“Still haven’t heard your word.” 

“Do billionaires carry folding money in their wallets?” she asked casually, moving toward the door. Peter and her assistant were chatting amiably, but Peter had begun heading toward her office again.

Tony laughed. “Not really. Billionaires use electronic transfers.” 

She opened the door to her office. “Peter?” she called out cheerfully. He entered and gladly pulled out his wallet when she asked him if he had any cash. Reaching into the billfold she pulled out a five and pocketed it.

“Congratulations, as of this moment I am your personal doctor,” she said cheerfully, shaking his hand. “Because of my profession I am under oath…” She turned and looked at Tony pointedly, “to prioritize your needs, and privacy, over any and all outside parties. As long as you don’t directly describe any crimes to me that you plan on committing in the future, neither wild horses nor the Supreme Court could get a word out of me. Are you familiar with HIPAA?” 


	7. Faremo L'amore Ogni Notte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You were right to call me in on this one.” Helen’s tone was gentler now. “I’m _glad_ he’s got you in his corner on this one, Tony. He may need you. You may be protecting the _real_ next Captain America…” 
> 
> **“Over my dead fucking body,”** Tony interrupted hotly.
> 
> * * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of Italian in here. That it's not immediately translated is done deliberately to put you in Peter's head. If you're an Italian speaker, obviously this little gambit won't work on you. 😄 
> 
> If you are an Italian speaker and Google translate has done their usual lousy job, please feel free to correct us in a comment and we'll fix the error right away.
> 
> Translations will be in the note at the end of the chapter.
> 
> * * *

She guided him away and they headed to her lab, leaving Tony behind in her office.

Tony agreed that what was discussed between Peter and Helen would remain between them. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous about what was happening. Instead of pacing the courtyard, making a nuisance of himself, he headed to his long-disused personal labs two floors up.

Cleaning the place up, activating and repairing the equipment, it all took time. He checked his watch. Not enough time. Peter was still gone, still downstairs with Helen. He looked up what he’d been working on when he was here last, years ago. 

There was little to distract him. Going over his notes on his development of the nanotech for his and Peter’s suits was interesting in a ‘historical record’ sort of way, though the data wouldn’t become part of that until _long_ after it had ceased to be useful to him. 

Watch-checking time again. Tony’s inability to keep himself distracted for more than, at most, an hour was annoying. He was sitting in what had been the top lab in the country, and he couldn’t find anything to _do._ Because his mind was still two floors down. Where he had no idea what was going on. Tony wasn’t sure which was worse. The possibility that something could be wrong or the fact that he couldn’t _see_ it even if there wasn’t anything wrong.

Peter’s texts finally interrupted him. 

_**We’re still talking** _

_**Still talking** _

**_Hey can you send me that vid of me stopping the car? The first one? Can’t find it._ **

_**Can you send me my laser-course stats?** _

_**Thanx** _

**_Ok headed to the examination room now._ **

The updates were at least keeping Tony from going completely crazy. But they also kept him from getting involved in anything truly distracting. So their effect was to have him sitting there, doing nothing, staring at his phone, waiting for the next one. 

He wanted to text back, to find out more, but he didn’t want to interrupt an exam or a test. He had no idea what was going on before or after the texts. So he just stared at his phone waiting for the next notification.

_**Omg I haven’t been naked at the doctor since I was 13** _

**_This is not a gown this is paper wtf?!_ **

Finally Peter texted him again. The medical exam was over _**(I get to put on my clothes now)**_ and he and ‘Helen’ were going for a walk.

At that, Tony’s resolve not to spy on Peter broke. He could control things in Helen’s office. He could control things on the entire medical floor. A ‘walk’? Where? Under whose watchful eyes and ears? 

Finally, after the cameras showed them heading outside, he gave the monitoring over to FRIDAY. “Track them, turn the surveillance off as they move along the grid, block communication from anyone who sees them and decides to talk about it. I want them in total privacy, from everything and everyone.” 

Tony paused. “Even me,” he added, abiding not by the rules Helen gave him, but by the rules he set for himself after their argument.

After an hour, he got another text. 

_**Were on our way back headed to the cafeteria. Im starving** _

Tony took the elevator down to the atrium level where the cafeteria and the entrance from outside was. He tried not to be, but he was a little terse when he met Peter and Helen at the door. He looked at Helen. “You and I need to have a conversation.”

Helen flashed him a sunny smile, then turned to Peter. “You won’t believe it, but the pizza here is actually good. I’ll see you after?” After Peter was gone, Helen looked back at Tony, but her smile didn’t fade. Most people would have been alarmed to find themselves at the receiving end of a Tony Stark Glare. Helen Cho, of course, was not most people.

“Your office, Doctor?” Tony said, waving his hand in that direction. He was too involved in his own conspiracy theories to notice Helen’s unflappable demeanor. When they arrived, he shut the door behind them. The windows that looked out onto the atrium darkened, the active monitoring lights turned off on the cameras.

“Why the hell did you take him outside into an uncontrolled environment? Are you _asking_ for the spies in the building to know that he had to see you about something? That alone right there is more information than I wanted out about this. So what’s with the doctor/patient confidentiality? That doesn’t apply suddenly?” 

Dr. Cho looked mildly surprised at Tony’s accusatory tone, but only shrugged.

“Sorry, it’s now confidential that I _met_ Spider-Man? My bad.”

“Everything about this is confidentential, I thought I made that clear. Fury, New-Cap, no one is supposed to know anything about anything. Just knowing that Peter is talking to you lets them know that _something_ is up with Spider-Man. That will get them curious. 

"All anyone knows is that we came here so I could show off the labs to Peter and make sure New-Cap accepts him as an Avenger. Coming here to see you? Getting tested? That was never on the agenda.”

“Good thing you’ve secured my office, then. We’ll go over the details after Peter achieves some caloric intake. I have theories.”

“That’s great. It’s what Peter needs. I want him to have your theories, your conclusions. But I want _him_ to have them. No one else.”

“And you made that clear when you tried to _bribe me for my silence_ , Tony,” Helen said, stepping closer, her patient face hardening a bit. “Peter wanted to go for a walk. He had things he wanted to talk about, and he did. And for the record? I can think of sixteen things we could have been talking about without even trying, and the fact that YOU can’t think of a few is a little telling. Not that he needs an alibi for finding his own personal physician... do you realize he hasn’t had a physical _since he was fourteen?”_ She shook her head in disbelief. “He hasn’t even gotten all his shots! Not that it matters but still… just the _idea…_

“In any case, _Peter_ is my priority now. If he wants to tell me about the things on his mind in a field, or a laboratory, or an alien spaceship it’s _his_ call. Not yours.”

“He still thinks the Avengers are one big happy family spending nights in pillow forts, watching movies, and eating popcorn. He has no idea of the risk. You can’t trust his ability to know _where_ he should be talking to you. He still… he still fucking _trusts_ people.”

She reached out to touch Tony’s arm briefly. “Well, _we_ know better, don’t we? You were right to call me in on this one.” Helen’s tone was gentler now. “I’m _glad_ he’s got you in his corner on this one, Tony. He may need you. You may be protecting the _real_ next Captain America…” 

**“Over my dead fucking body,”** Tony interrupted hotly.

“…And I’m not sure _he’s_ ready to say ‘no’ to Nick Fury. But I know _you_. You were born ready. 

“I think you two make a good team.”

Tony sighed, a little more relieved. At least Helen saw through some of the smoke and mirrors that surrounded her. “He trusts people. But… he’s the only one… I trust.” 

There was silence for a moment. Only when he turned to look at Helen did she speak again.

“I’m _glad,_ Tony. You, more than anyone else on this planet, have earned the right to every single trust issue you own, and then some. But you trust _me_ to an extent, or you wouldn’t have called me. And I’m glad you did. And for the record? I think he’s adorable, and you make a very sweet couple.

“Now shut the fuck up and stop telling me how to do my job,” she said dismisvely, turning back to her desk and pointing at the door. “Go debate the propriety of pineapple on pizza with your boyfriend. I’ll meet you two back here when he’s done eating.”

Tony nodded. He knew he had no objectivity on this issue. Just being here was the last place he wanted to be, which he’d tried to explain… No, he hadn’t tried to explain, just expected Peter to somehow _intuit_ — which wasn’t really fair. Nor was it fair to Helen to blame her for what went on around her. 

“Is that even a debate? Of course pineapple belongs on pizza,” Tony said smiling as he left to go find Peter.

Peter had, in fact, already scarfed down his pizza and was on his way to find Tony. He only glanced around for a moment to make sure they were alone before he wrapped his arms around Tony and hugged him fiercely. 

“ _Thank you_ for this,” he whispered.

Tony smiled and put a kiss on — not the top of Peter’s head anymore! — Peter’s cheek. “Helen says she has ideas. So, I’m glad we were able to come.”

When they entered Helen’s office, she was pulling up a chart on her holoscreen, using her finger to add Peter’s numbers.

“Now, obviously I can’t chart a line based on one point. I’ll need more data. Peter and I may have to talk once year, twice a year ideally. But based on his memory and what data you gave me, I have some theories. Peter’s weight, muscle mass, and BMI put him solidly average, though his height is in the lower 25% until this last growth spurt. Still very average. Nothing anyone can do about that. Now — the jumps in his performance scores _look_ drastic, but not if you take into consideration that the recorded scores from when he was sixteen were inaccurate. According to him he was holding back. But given the stats you calculated in high-adrenaline situations, catching moving vehicles, going hand to hand with the Winter Soldier, I’ve made different estimates. And that gives us a trajectory that looks like this.”

She drew the line with one finger, then hovered over the chart already on the screen. 

“The numbers appearextreme, but the math is ultimately the same. A non-enhanced male of Peter’s age, weight and healthy caloric intake, not to mention his daily workout schedule…

“ _ **Yes**_ ,” she interrupted as Peter tried to correct her. “You swing your bodyweight through over the streets of New York City for hours almost _daily_ , you weren’t taking that into account.” 

“So a non-enhanced young adult male’s trajectory _would_ look the same as the one Peter is making now. If my theory holds he’ll peak the same time a non-enhanced male would peak, then begin to decline the same way.” She looked at Peter, as if asking permission to continue. 

Peter only nodded and looked at Tony. He was nothing but smiles. He seemed pleased and relieved. When Helen kept looking at him, waiting for that permission to come, Peter decided that it didn’t need to. They were finished talking. 

The numbers didn’t matter any longer. They’d discussed them during their walk. What mattered was that he was growing at a normal — for non-normal — rate. It _would_ stop. He’d reach a peak and not just keep growing ridiculously forever. There would come a point where he didn’t have to keep being afraid of his ability. He could just learn how to work within it. He’d learn his limits. Then he wouldn’t hurt anyone else. And he wouldn’t hurt Tony. That was what both of them needed to know.

The meeting ended with cell phones out and schedules compared, Peter and Dr. Cho making plans six months in the future and exchanging numbers. Tony copying the dates in his. Peter hugged Dr. Cho before they left the office, then once again as they said goodbye. 

“Did you get the answers you were looking for?” Tony asked as they left Helen’s office, heading to the residence wing.

“Yes, I mean no, but I got some decent theories. Which beat the fuck out of _my_ theories. My theories were just too scary. Helen put it all into perspective. She’s awesome. _Thank you,_ Tony.”

They left the medical wing for the stairs in the lobby, then down them, holding hands.

They had decided to kill the rest of the day by heading to the pool ‘to relax’. Peter’s manic need to perform feats of strength had cooled. They talked, they joked, they made up conversations in between Sam and Bucky who, they assured each other, were watching them at every moment. Peter matched Tony joke for raunchy joke, laughing freely and easily.

Tony smiled, sneaking glances at Peter when the kid wouldn’t notice. He hadn’t seen Peter this relaxed and easy since, well, since his work started to impinge on their lives. Peter’s happiness started to slip away when they’d meet up at different hotels in the city as something fun and different from the penthouse. At first, Peter would get excited and they’d laugh and play around with things in the suite, even bouncing like a kid on the very soft and bouncy beds. 

That seemed like a long, long time ago. As Tony drifted away from their life, Peter also drifted away. Now, his Peter was back. 

They did laps, at which Peter would’ve beat Tony easily if the kid hadn’t been acting like a dolphin following a ship, diving and ducking underneath him, swerving in patterns, even leaping up and over Tony’s body. 

More than once Peter made bets he could hold his breath for ‘this long’, bets he always lost, unable to resist surfacing directly under Tony to grab him and lift him into the air. 

The kid was a fish. Their swimming quickly turned into nothing but playing, splashing, dunking. And a lot of teasing. A kiss stolen and then swam away from. An ‘accidental’ brush against somewhere while coming up from a dive. 

Tony let himself go. He couldn’t remember when he’d last played around in the water. Or even if he had _ever_ just played around in the water. If the surveillance to the pool room hadn’t been turned off, no one watching would’ve believed that it was Tony Stark down there, laughing and smiling and _playing._

“There’s a huge pool at my house in Naples. I’m taking you there. It’ll be just like this for a week. Only better. New-Cap and the Manchurian Candidate won’t be trying to spy on us.”

“Take me to Italy,” Peter said, grinning, swimming into Tony’s arms for another kiss. “Take me somewhere where I don’t know _anything_ , and teach me all of it. Maybe we won’t come back.”

“Andremo in Italia. Nuoteremo in piscina ogni mattina. Faremo l'amore ogni notte.”

“Mmmmm… more. I love being ignorant.”

“I’ll take away your phone and you won’t be able to use ‘translate’,” Tony grinned.

“The less I know the better. I’ll just assume you’re telling me a dirty joke.”

“You’ll have to trust that I’m correctly teaching you what to say. That I’m not having you to insult someone and get us chased out of the restaurant,” Tony clenched his fist and sprayed a squirt of water at Peter’s face.

“Ti comprerò diamanti e quell'orologio e ti rovinerò marcio.”

“I agree! I assume it’s about sex, and I agree.”

“Ti porterò in ogni ristorante di lusso che riesco a trovare. Indosserai scarpe italiane da mille dollari. Ti misurerò per un abito da uomo che costa più di quanto la maggior parte della gente guadagni in una settimana.”

“Yes! I’m unfazeable,” Peter said, laughing. “Whatever it is, I’m in.”

“E quando arriviamo a casa, ti scoperò nel culo così forte che non puoi camminare. Ti lascerò persino toccarmi _lì.”_

“I’ll assume _that_ means ‘I want to have sex in the pool’,” Peter said, sinking straight down, nuzzling Tony’s cock for a moment before swimming away.

“Voglio fare sesso in piscina,” Tony shouted just before Peter dove again, this time swimming all the way down to the bottom of the deep end.

Peter didn’t spring back up like he’d been doing. A whole minute passed and he was still sitting, cross-legged, at the bottom. Tony frowned and looked down at the distorted image through the water. He counted another ten, fifteen seconds before he dove down. Paddling in front of Peter he looked into the kid’s face. His hair was waving through the water, looking like a mermaid. His eyes were open and he was grinning.

When they had laughed themselves silly and their fingers were getting pruned, Peter and Tony headed to the changing room, showered off and dressed. When they hit the common room, Tony’s hair was slicked back wet, and Peter’s kept falling over his forehead in little ringlets.

Cooking and eating together, they spared only a socially required greeting then ignored any conversation attempts. They were alone in the large room, regardless of who was there around them. Their conversation ranged through the adaptations Tony would be working on for Peter’s suit to the new webbing Peter would create for it. They had no worries about the security of their discussion. No one would understand what they said, even if overheard.

Peter still teased about the pool, his dive, and how it had scared Tony. Tony was still breaking into Italian as he described what he would cook for Peter in Naples and how he would spoil him.

As they sat down to the table, a robot that no one even knew was in the compound came up to them, bringing a bottle of wine from a private cellar that, also, no one knew was in the compound.

By the time dinner was made and finished, they were dry, well fed, and in good humor. They headed to Tony’s suite, leaving behind a befuddled Sam, staring at Tony laughing like he must’ve been an alien left to replace the real Tony Stark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * * *
> 
> **  
>  _Italian translations:_   
>  **
> 
> **The title**  
>  _Faremo L'amore Ogni Notte_ \- We'll make love all night
> 
>  **Within the text**  
>  _Andremo in Italia. Nuoteremo in piscina ogni mattina. Faremo l'amore ogni notte._ \- We will go to Italy. We will swim in the pool every morning. We will make love every night.
> 
>  _Ti comprerò diamanti e quell'orologio e ti rovinerò marcio._ \- I'll buy you diamonds and that watch and spoil you rotten.
> 
>  _Ti porterò in ogni ristorante di lusso che riesco a trovare. Indosserai scarpe italiane da mille dollari. Ti misurerò per un abito da uomo che costa più di quanto la maggior parte della gente guadagni in una settimana._ \- I will take you to every luxury restaurant I can find. You will wear Italian thousand dollar shoes. I'll measure you for a men's suit that costs more than most people earn in a week.
> 
>  _E quando arriviamo a casa, ti scoperò nel culo così forte che non puoi camminare. Ti lascerò persino toccarmi_ lì. - And when we get home, I’ll fuck you in the ass so hard that you can't walk. I'll even let you touch me _there_.
> 
>  _Voglio fare sesso in piscina._ \- I want to have sex in the pool.


	8. A Naughty Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All his life, it seemed, Peter had some romantic notion of being kissed in a dark hallway, his arms around the neck of some tall handsome man, while that handsome man kissed him passionately and… well… groped him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who forgot yesterday was Thursday??? That'd be Von. Ooops! Here it is a day late. Sorry.

Peter gave Tony a mischievous look and said, “ _Please_ don’t suggest we not have sex tonight.”

“Well, we don’t _have_ to. But if you insist…” Tony said as he opened the door, closing it behind them.

In the privacy of Tony’s room Peter hugged him again. It was the same kind of ‘thank you’ hug he’d given him in the hallway, one that involved squeezing Tony hard for just a moment, then holding him close for a few moments more. Then Peter pulled away, and kissed Tony gently.

Then he kissed him gently again.

Then he kissed him again, and again, pressing against him until he was walking Tony backwards to the wall, where he pinned the man with a grin.

“Oh no, I’m not done with you yet, Mr. Stark,” he growled, while grinning, holding Tony’s wrists in his hands, teasing his mouth with tongue and little kisses, smiling the more he realized he _could_ do anything he wanted with his lover, if his lover were willing.

Unable to use his hands without letting go of Tony, he used his face to nudge open Tony’s jacket and began nuzzling against the arc reactor through his shirt, using his nose to tease the edges where he knew it was the most sensitive. He released Tony’s left wrist to use the hand that had been holding it to unbutton an opening, giving him more access. Then he began poking his tongue through the shirt, teasing the edge of the reactor, teasing himself with that spark of silver-edged taste. He peeked up at Tony’s face.

Tony’s eyes were closed, but he wasn’t moaning the way he usually did when Peter touched him there, so Peter slowed down. Pressing his legs against Tony’s, he released Tony’s other wrist to use both hands to unbutton the center of the shirt, leaving the collar closed. Opening a little window Peter gently began brushing his fingertips over the sapphire glass. 

The shirt, closed at the collar, prevented him from accessing Tony’s neck (and _dammit_ he was headed toward that safe place in Tony’s neck, but he wasn’t going there yet, not _yet.)_ He straightened his back and instead pressed his nose against Tony’s ear.

He wanted to ask a question, something sexy, but now Tony’s breath was hitching and, oh yes, Peter could feel his reaction through his trousers. He grinned and said nothing at all. He leaned down instead and began kissing Tony gently in the center of the reactor. When Tony didn’t speak, Peter continued, running his tongue in a complete circle around the edge. 

Tony moaned, but still didn’t speak. He wasn’t touching Peter. His hands were pressed to the wall. This was an interesting development, letting Peter have that kind of control. Brushing up so close to the fear that Tony held inside him. Then having that fear supplanted by the fact that _this was Peter._ He’d let Peter in and Peter hadn’t hurt him. So Tony played with the little frisson that ran up his spine. And he stayed still, letting the kid do what he wanted to do. Peter could _touch_ him.

Peter thrilled at not being interrupted, then panicked a little when he realized he was ‘running the fuck’ now and that meant he had to continue. But when he put both hands on Tony’s sides he thrilled at the new opportunity. He ran his hands over Tony’s ribs, around to the small of his back and back again. Damn, had he EVER gotten to feel Tony up like this? He continued mouthing the edge of the reactor in the places he knew Tony liked best while his hands went lower, running over waist and hips and ass then back to his ribcage. 

Still Tony didn’t speak — a new reaction, but nothing Peter couldn’t handle. He began teasing the edge of the reactor with his _teeth_ (enjoying the reaction _that_ move inspired) before standing up again and kissing Tony on the mouth, slipping his hands behind Tony’s back and pulling him close.

For a moment Peter had a sudden realization that took him by surprise, almost like an epiphany. 

First, he was nose to nose with Tony? Was that a thing now?

Second, he had never kissed another person this way, _ever._ When he had kissed Tony, from the very beginning, his hands had been around Tony’s neck (and his head had been tilted up.) Kissing other guys had always been a sitting-down affair, something that had always involved beds or futons or couches, something that had always involved getting naked and and messing around and a lot of further negotiations.

But this? Standing up, facing forward, his hands on his waist and _kissing…_ this was… this was almost… 

Cautiously (but he didn’t want to be cautious!) Peter took Tony’s hands (still pressing, really _pressing,_ against the wall as if he were trying to hang onto it) and draped them around his neck, never breaking the kiss.

Tony moved then, placing one hand on the nape of Peter’s neck, as he had done many times before, holding him close. But the kiss remained the same, Peter moving in, Tony not moving away, not taking over (something Peter was _very_ used to), but something else. Waiting.

Then Peter, realizing what he _could_ do next, moaned, and began.

All his life, it seemed, Peter had some romantic notion of being kissed in a dark hallway, his arms around the neck of some tall handsome man, while that handsome man kissed him passionately and… well… groped him. ‘Took advantage’ of him, Aunt May would say. And that was a _bad_ thing for the man to do. A _naughty_ thing. Oh, Peter had understood that part, but damn, Peter had always dreamed of being on the receiving end of such bad treatment. It was such an old, odd fantasy he hadn’t even expressed it to Tony (who took such good advantage of him in so many other positions it had never really come up.) But here they were, Tony deliberately saying nothing and well… damn… it was time for Peter to take advantage. 

Holding his lover close with one firm hand at the small of Tony’s back, Peter ran the other hand down and boldly took a handful of ass, massaging it gently and moaning in appreciation. It felt so good he moved his other hand there too, thrilling at the opportunity to play with his lover’s legendary ass. Had he _ever_ gotten to touch Tony there? Certainly not for _this_ long. Cupping, stroking, sometimes teasing the rise the way Tony liked to do to him, Peter felt Tony moaning and pushing into the kiss, starting to take control. That meant he wouldn’t have much time to act out his fantasy, so he ran one hand up to Tony’s chest, avoiding the arc reactor. (The arc reactor hadn’t played into _that_ fantasy, _that_ fantasy was too early) and teasing one pebbled nipple through the fabric of the shirt. 

The shirt was partially open, of course, and Peter ran that same hand up to the top button, breaking the kiss to gently lift Tony’s chin up and out of the way. Pressing kisses and a few gentle bites along Tony’s jaw (ah, that was another fantasy altogether, one he had indulged in _many_ times) he slipped that hand boldly under Tony’s shirt and starred out over the pectoral muscle, moaning in appreciation. 

“I _want_ you, Tony,” he growled, the same way the tall handsome man in his fantasy had growled, stroking his thumb over the nipple one more time before moving his hand down to caress Tony’s stomach. He pulled away and watched Tony’s face, now — when Tony touched him there it _really_ made him weak all over — before gently pulling Tony’s shirt free of his trousers, keeping their faces close. Looking down he moaned in appreciation at the sight of his lover’s body as the shirt was pulled away.

Suddenly overwhelmed with what Tony was letting him do, Peter stepped away from his fantasy, took Tony’s face in both hands and pulled their mouths together.

“Jesus _Christ,_ Tony, I love you so much,” he whimpered, kissing the man hard.

“Thank you for letting me touch you,” he said, and suddenly he couldn’t stop grinning again, feeling foolish. “You _never_ let me touch you like this.”

“Thank you’s a little formal for the situation, kid,” Tony said smiling. “I didn’t just hand you a pastry over the counter. But yeah. It’s… your hands are warm.” 

Tony had to consider the truth of what he _wanted_ to say. He certainly loved Peter. He trusted him more than he’d _ever_ trusted anyone in his life. But there was still a level… a _body_ level of hesitancy there. Even when he didn’t want there to be. When the _body_ in question didn’t want it to be, the mind still struggled to let go of his fear. He never simply went with what his body wanted, because what his body wanted made him… made him _feel_ vulnerable, he remembered to amend his thought. Because he wasn’t vulnerable with Peter. He only felt so because of people who _weren’t_ Peter. 

“I like it when you touch me,” he admitted. And went farther. “I like it better when you’re touching _me_ and not my clothes.” Tony brought Peter’s hands to the buttons of his shirt. “I used to wonder if your hands would be warm or cold. I avoided touching you so much when we’d be working together. Avoided even brushing hands with you. So I wondered. And then when I found out how warm you are all over. How soft your hands feel but how strong you’d hold me with them when I’d get you all _gone.”_

“I get… _gone?”_

“I’ve had the finger bruises to prove it,” Tony said, taking one of Peter’s hands and kissing his fingertips.

“Stop,” Peter groaned, hiding his face in Tony’s shoulder (dammit he was there again!) He pulled up his face immediately and kissed Tony on the mouth, before allowing him to continue on his fingertips. But Tony had put his fingers on the buttons of his shirt, so Peter took the hint and pulled the rest of it free, exposing all of Tony’s chest as the man spoke.

“But baby, I _love_ it when you get all gone and leave me the proof that I made you that way on my body.” Tony ran his fingertip along the outside line of Peter’s face. “Undeniable evidence. I love your fingers. I love your hands.” He kissed Peter’s palm. “So warm. Like I dreamed they’d be when you’d touch me.”

“You dreamed I’d touch… oh Tony…” Peter moaned a little and began to kiss the exposed collar bone, pushing the shirt away. Dammit, that jacket would have to go, and soon. He couldn’t take it off and let it drop to the floor, it was one of the expensive ones.

“I remember one day you got so frustrated and you squeezed the hell out of a wooden chemistry model and… I kept wondering what those fingers would feel like gripping my arm while you were _lost…”_

Peter moaned at the words and nuzzled Tony’s neck, teasing it with tongue and teeth. This was _not_ the same as hiding, he assured himself, because he was still in the process of feeling Tony up. And when he wasn’t convinced, he reached down again and reassured himself with two handfuls of ass while Tony talked.

“Only you’d know… you’d know that it was me and you’d stop before you… only so hard and no harder… and that’s what you did. From the first night. You always know when to stop yourself. Because I’m not a dorm room wall or a chemistry model. You know… even when you’re _gone…_ that it’s me.” Tony looked at Peter… face to face… still such an unusual realization and one that thrilled him. “So yeah. I love your hands.”

“You trusted me more that night than I trusted myself,” Peter groused, kissing Tony on the mouth again. Still, he couldn’t deny that Tony had been right in every case.

A sudden thought made him grin.

“Do you trust me now?

“Because right now I _really_ want to throw you down on the bed and go down on you.” 

Tony laughed. _“Throw_ me down on the bed, huh? I know you won’t hurt me, but the bed? It’s not made of vibranium. Though one could always be made…” he said grinning. 

_“Not_ the size _you_ like your beds to be…” 

“You seriously underestimate the amount of that stuff I have hidden away in _my_ lab.” Tony’s grin widened. “Enough to build all _sorts_ of things that a spider might not be able to break. Certainly enough for a bed. That you _think_ you can throw me down onto. Your aim better be good Pete, my back can’t take hitting the floor. I’m an old man, remember?”

“Oh, I’m making sweet tender love to you gently on _this_ bed, old man,” Peter said, grinning from ear to ear as he led Tony away from the wall. “But I’m not sure… it’s only big enough for eight people, not sixteen, so I don’t know how you’ll cope…”

“It _is_ a smaller bed than at home. You might miss it. You’re not that good. You missed the top of the berm with that post and made it bounce instead. I don’t bounce.”

“Oh _that’s_ how it is?” Peter said laughing, wrapping his arms around Tony’s waist and picking him up from the floor, swinging him around playfully and closing the distance to the bed with Tony off his feet. He grinned all the way across the room, laughing as Tony shouted.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Pete!” Tony said with a laugh. “Don’t miss goddammit! Don’t miss!” he was still laughing but his voice screeched higher in volume _and_ pitch.

“Oh you are in _trouble_ now, Stark,” Peter exclaimed as he kicked off his shoes and climbed aboard the bed, Tony still in his arms.

“This had better be one EPIC blowjob for getting me up this high off the ground! Put me down!”

“I’m _going_ down, just watch,” Peter cried out over Tony’s protests. Good god, what if any of the other Avengers were in earshot? Peter was so used to them having the entire top floors of Stark Tower to themselves… the thought made him grin even more. Soon he’d been smiling too much to make good on his threat.

Tony landed with a little bounce like he hadn’t landed on a bed since… EVER. Jarvis was always there to stop him. He couldn’t help the giggle that escaped when he finally settled flat on his back and looked up at Peter, still standing on the bed, now looming above him.

Peter stood over Tony, glowing with pride. He had managed to position Tony perfectly _and_ drop him squarely on his back in one smooth motion successfully… god he loved being graceful. And now Tony was lying supine and Peter was towering over him. It was a good position to be in. But inwardly Peter was asking himself, ‘ _What do I do next_?’ 


	9. Running the Fuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn’t want to come, but if Peter kept going down on him as good as he was _and_ touched the arc? There’d be no self-restraint. Tony was used to making Peter _gone._ He was definitely _not_ used to the reverse.

Peter found himself standing with Tony Stark at his feet, and he found he enjoyed it very much.

Looking down at the man at his feet, he began to unbutton his own shirt.

He took his time, holding Tony’s eyes in his all the while. Finally he pulled it off and, holding it in one hand over Tony’s body for a moment, dropped it onto the man’s chest.

Clothes landing on top of him did absolutely nothing to help Tony’s attempt to get his laughter under control. Peter peeled his undershirt off in one smooth motion and dropped it playfully onto his face. That was too much of a challenge! Tony pulled the undershirt off of his face and tossed it back in the direction of Peter’s head. Unfortunately his position of flat-on-your-back, aiming up at a looming young man meant that he missed. Spectacularly.

Peter began to undo his belt, watching Tony carefully. He loved watching Tony relax (he hadn’t heard the man _giggle_ in far too long) and hoped it meant he’d be allowed to do what he planned to do next.

With belt and flies undone Peter let his trousers fall below his knees, which meant he could lose them as he knelt in one smooth motion (god, he loved being graceful) until he was clad only in his boxers as he began to nuzzle Tony’s erection. He toed his socks off in that position, then began unfastening Tony’s belt, opening up his flies and nuzzling in. He teased Tony’s cock with his teeth through the fabric, but only for a moment, never knowing when Tony was going to end this and take control.

And then it occurred to him… what if Tony didn’t?

He took his time working Tony’s shaft through the fabric, making no move to undress him further. And when Tony’s hands did come down he pushed them away.

And he kept pushing them away. He said nothing as he worked Tony out of his trousers (gently, the same way Tony liked to undress him) but left the boxers on.

He would loved to have tossed the trousers on the floor, but they were the expensive kind, so he had to break for a moment, sit up, and lay them aside.

Tony got the hint. No hands. That could make it… fun. He started reaching down, but _before_ Peter could push his hands away, he pulled them back, _very deliberately,_ himself, taking control of where they went. He wouldn’t touch. He’d let the kid do all the work. No hands. And no reactions. Make him work for it. _Let’s see what the kid does with that._ Tony gave a small little smug smile.

Peter lay himself on top of Tony’s legs, rather than between them, wrapping one arm around both and hugging them to himself, acting out yet another _very_ old fantasy. He used his other hand to stroke the man’s calf and ankle as he busied himself with the challenge of giving head without using his own hands.

“Might just let you get me off like that. If you can,” Tony said, hovering his hands above the waistband of his boxers. “But… you threw me on the bed and I can’t get what you promised me with these on.” Tony stretched himself out and casually put his hands behind his head. He looked down and watched Peter mouthing him. Almost teasing himself. Drawing it out. Letting himself enjoy every part of the process. And it was fun to watch him doing that. Sure, his hands kinda itched to go down to Peter’s head and tangle in his hair like they usually did. But this… just _watching_ and waiting? Oh yes, that was _good._

Peter made a hungry noise and began licking any flesh he could get to as soon as it was exposed. He nudged Tony’s boxers down with his chin as he started mouthing and teasing Tony’s cock at the base, pressing his tongue against the skin and enjoying the texture, the scent. God, Tony _never_ let him spend this much time down here! He’d have to use his hands soon, of course (Tony _had_ asked for EPIC after all) but for now he thrilled at the feel of Tony’s legs in his embrace. Oh, this was good. This was very very good. Peter licked lower, teasing his lover’s scrotum, before finding a vein and tracing it upward with the tip of his tongue.

The boxers were down far enough. Tony was too distracted to worry about them anymore. But they were in the way dammit. Tony squirmed more to try to get them lower, but not too much because he didn’t want to accidentally move away from what Peter was doing. That was too good. The kid must’ve been going on that porn site again.

Peter thrilled at the sensation of Tony wriggling beneath him, although he wondered at the silence. Tony was _reacting_ , certainly (although he was trying not to — those moans and caught breaths that he didn’t want Peter to hear were _everything)_ but otherwise speechless. That was a good sign. The less Tony spoke, the more Peter got to play.

Peter wrapped his other arm around Tony’s legs and held tight. He would need his hands to get Tony into his mouth and he wondered, could he tease Tony long enough that the man would reach down and do it himself? _Would he ask permission first?_ Ah god, Tony _feeding Peter his cock_ was an _old_ fantasy indeed. He smiled at the thought, placing wet kisses up the shaft stopping just short of the head, then worked his way back down to the base. Then he slowly worked his way back up to the top. When he arrived he stretched up to work his mouth over the tip, trying to catch what he found there on the very center of his tongue. He moaned at the taste.

Tony’s hands seemed to still be obediently under his head, a thought which amused Peter to no end, and with a bit of wiggling Peter found he _could_ coax the head of Tony’s cock into his mouth, and soon he found himself vigorously sucking on the tip and holding the man’s legs tightly, enjoying the results.

Still, Tony _said_ nothing.

And that felt odd. Certainly _some_ words should be said at this point, wasn’t that how sex was _done?_ Of course, Tony was always in charge of the talking, and if Peter was ‘running the fuck…’

He glanced up at his lover’s face. (He had been assured many times that it wasn’t rude and he always tried to remember that.) He looked into Tony’s eyes as he wet the tip of his tongue and ran it up the shaft again. Tony was looking down at him, aroused, but also looking… mildly amused?

Oh _that_ would not do.

More teasing was in order. He shifted position and, with his left arm still firmly around Tony’s legs, he brought up his right hand and began stroking the man’s stomach. (He always lost control when Tony touched him this way.)

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Tony,” he murmured, exactly the way Tony would have done to him. “You _never_ let me enjoy this… touch you like this. You never let me play with you. I spent so much damn time trying to deal with your ridiculously large cock I never really…”

He couldn’t resist anymore.

Using his hand, he lifted Tony’s shaft. First he began tracing veins again, sometimes with kisses and sometimes with his tongue.

“It’s stupid-big but it’s… it’s like a work of art. It’s just beautiful. SI could make a model of it and sell it on Geeky Sex Toys and make another fortune. They already sell an ‘arse reactor’ butt plug, so they’d love it. And you _never_ let me suck you off. I can count on one hand how many times you’ve come in my mouth. It’s criminal.”

“So I should put that in next quarter’s business proposals?” Tony asked seriously. “I’m gonna, you know. You know I will do it.” He smiled. “Just to see the look on Pepper’s face if nothing else.”

Peter made an appreciative noise, his mouth full.

Now he had to let go of Tony’s legs, which he did, reluctantly. Using his other arm to position himself he wrapped his entire hand around the base automatically, taking the rest into his mouth and began to work.

“You get at least fifty percent of the earnings from that. We can measure the difference between how hard I get on my own versus how hard with you _helping.”_ Tony fought to keep the groan from breaking his lighthearted banter. There was no way he was giving the kid what he wanted. Not yet.

But as soon as Peter let go of Tony’s legs, the old Peter Problem immediately began.

The old fantasy (Peter reveled in it now) was that he could hold the man down and blow him whether he liked it or not. But this was not the _fantasy_ , this was the _reality_ , and in reality all oral sex had this same problem.

Once his teasing ended, and the actual blow job began? Then Peter was faced with the same problem he’d had for a year — he was blowing THE Tony Stark, a man with more years of experience than he had years of life. And while Peter enjoyed the taste of Tony’s cock immensely, enjoyed it _especially_ because it was such a rare treat, he would always become aware, eventually, that he really didn’t have much idea what he was doing. _Not_ compared to Tony who took him all the way down, on the first time, every time, with ease. (But how could Peter be as good as Tony, when Peter got so _little_ practice? _This was **Tony’s** fault,_ he groused internally, as the old familiar doubt crept in.)

One hand snaked up to Tony’s chest to finger the arc reactor, but then he pulled it back. _No dammit_ , that was cheating. Tonight he wanted something else.

He pulled away and licked around the head again, trying to think, searching the memory banks of all his Damn-I-Miss-Tony He’s-Been-Gone-Too-Long fantasies. He had dozens upon dozens that he had used to keep himself warm on many, many nights. He chose one. Then, with a deep breath, he tried something daring.

He was _different_ now _,_ he had complained to Tony. Had _bragged_ to Tony. Had made a point of shrugging it off when Tony had spoken in awe of his new strength. If he _really_ was different, it was time to prove it.

Laying the side of his face on top of Tony’s stomach (which had the added bonus of hiding his face AND keeping from looking at Tony’s face) Peter went down on Tony again. This time he only used his fingers to maneuver, but not to cover. Rather than move his mouth to touch his fingers he concentrated on moving himself down on Tony’s shaft further than he had before. He chickened out immediately, but closed his mouth down firmly as he pulled all the way up the shaft and went down again. And again. Each time daring himself to go lower.

It didn’t work, of course. As soon as he felt Tony in the back of his throat it happened — he didn’t gag but immediately pulled away, mortified. (Because what if he _did?_ What if he _gagged?_ He couldn’t stand the thought.)

Tony moaned, then caught himself doing it and stopped. But then Peter took him further into his mouth the next time and he held his breath to keep the groan out of his voice. When he saw Peter’s hand head upwards… if the kid touched him _there_ while sucking him off? He didn’t want to come, but if Peter kept going down on him as good as he was _and_ touched the arc? There’d be no self-restraint. Tony was used to making Peter _gone._ He was definitely _not_ used to the reverse.

Thankfully Peter stopped his reach about halfway up and moved his hand down again. But then Peter started to try to take him down further. He was hitting the back of the kid’s mouth each time he went down. But then he felt Peter stop himself from going further. He still hadn’t learned how, or didn’t want to, take Tony into his throat. Tony’s hips slid on the bed in a slow writhe as he thought about what it would feel like if Peter _did._

Tony loved it when Peter went down on him, but he was, despite protesting otherwise, inexperienced. His experience ended with the skill of getting him hard enough that they could fuck. And if his mouth was combined with his hand on his cock, or if his hand reached up to the center of his chest and what was there, he could make Tony come. Never with his mouth alone. And never in the way that Tony used to really like from other people. But other people weren’t an option. He was in a committed relationship and he didn’t cheat, no matter what people might think because of his image. Because it was Peter, he didn’t even have to fight the temptation. There was no temptation. But there were certain things he missed in bed. The feel of his cock sliding in past the tightness, feeling the swallow around him, the wet heat all the way along his shaft instead of fingers… that was one of them.

It might be missed, but Tony didn’t ever want to push things with Peter. He waited patiently for Peter to learn. Okay, maybe it was patiently _and_ frustratedly. But it seemed like his frustration days were nearing an end. His hips kept seeking more even if his hands stayed behind his head. And maybe when he hit the back of the kid’s mouth… nope… Tony didn’t moan at all. That wasn’t him. Much.

Tony was moving beneath him, from pleasure or impatience? Either way, Peter felt a rush of determination. He had _bragged_ about how strong he was, he had made them come all the way to the compound so he could show it off. It was time to put up or shut up. He let go of Tony’s legs completely and, using both arms to alter his position, he wrapped his lips tight around Tony’s shaft and went down until he felt Tony pressing into his throat.


	10. Fuck you Parker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Pete?” Tony gasped out the name as a question. “Do you want me to come like this?”
> 
> Peter pulled up instantly, surprising both of them as he cried out “Oh God no!” 
> 
> “Then _stop that!”_ Tony groaned with a smile. “You’re too damn good!”

There was a moment, a terrible moment, when he felt it. The choking presence of powdered concrete, the weight of the crushing slab on top of his back, the darkness. It was only a second, a split second, before he pulled completely off of Tony and swallowed hard, blinking. What the hell? Peter wiped the sweat from his face, _no_ , he was wiping _tears from his eyes,_ and looked down at Tony’s cock as if it were an alien from space. Glanced around the room to make sure he was still here. The sensation of being crushed under a collapsing building had been so bizarre, so incongruent, so _real._

He had no choice but to try it again.

Tony’s cock in his mouth was a lovely sensation, familiar and loving and soothing. He moaned a little in appreciation, taking in Tony’s scent (that had always made him feel safe and protected) before moving his head down and fitting the head of Tony’s cock into his throat again. The sensation was immediate, if not as dramatic. That memory of being choked, of being choked _to death_ in fact, when the concrete slab was pressing down on his back and the concrete dust left him in complete darkness. But that was a _memory_ now, not a reality. He could open his eyes and see where he was, see the bed, see the sheets, see the hairs of Tony’s legs (and… goosebumps? was he looking at goosebumps?) before he realized he actually did need to breathe and so he pulled away again.

Pulled off entirely. This was NOT the way he had done it in his fantasies, oh no, none of this pulling-away-to-swallow-hard nonsense, none of this pulling free to breathe (and rub his throat with his hand, and wipe the drool off his chin, Jesus why was he _drooling_ so much? Embarrassing.) 

But something else was happening, something so much better than his fantasies. _Tony was reacting._ Peter swallowed hard, swallowed his pride, and did it again.

Tony's breaths caught every time Peter took him that far into his mouth. His legs tensed to keep his hips from pushing up, wanting more, instead, letting Peter do it his way, learning it on his own. But god… it was taking everything he had to _not_ seek out more of Peter's hot, wet mouth.

Over and over Peter repeated the motion. Took his lover into his mouth. Anchored himself with the sweet, familiar scent that he loved. Used his tongue and lips the way he knew Tony liked. Then fit Tony, maybe slightly deeper this time? into the back of his throat. And let the sensation threaten him. That you-are-dying-now feeling. That certain-doom feeling. That ‘need to panic and scream and call out and pointlessly beg for help’ feeling. Each time he kept his eyes open, defying the vision, defying that need to _not_ be choked to death, to not let that collapsed ceiling and cloud of concrete dust kill him. He couldn’t say he was exactly suave about it — he had tears running down his cheeks like a man in mourning and he was drooling like nothing else, but inside he felt a calm determination… a _cold_ determination. No, not cold. _The opposite of cold._ He pulled off completely, swallowed hard, and did it again.

There wasn’t any point to Tony pretending that he wasn’t groaning and writhing his hips and panting heavily. Peter had him so close to actually being in his throat. And he kept trying… and the trying felt… _amazing._ Tony threw back his head, groaned loudly, and struggled… struggled _hard…_ to keep his hands behind his head and his words inside. Sounds? There was absolutely no way to keep _those_ inside. He had more self control, even in the state Peter was getting him, than to come right away like a — he smiled — young twenty-something did. He wanted it to _last._

Tony was clearly enjoying himself, Peter thought with satisfaction as he tried to wipe his face dry again with his arm… wishing for a shirtsleeve dammit why did he take his shirt off for this? (wait maybe the shower would be the best place? Then it wouldn’t be so messy.) He took another breath, swallowed hard, and did it again. Tony was moaning freely now. Soon… very soon… if Peter was good enough, the man might start _talking…_

Peter fit Tony into the back of his throat again and pushed, this time closing his eyes and counting. He knew he could hold his breath for quite a while… it was one of the _very_ old games for killing time in boring classes. Still, going without air and ignoring the you-are-dying-now sensation were two different things. Peter made it to the count of 90 the first time, 110 the second. Sometimes he found his hand digging into Tony’s leg as he reached his stopping point — _dammit_ now he had to calculate _not hurting Tony_ into this whole process — wow giving head was complicated! Still every trip up was filled with more satisfaction. Every deep breath (and quick chin-wipe) left him feeling more confident. He swallowed hard and tried for 120.

“F…” Tony caught himself and the word tuned into a heavy breath before it escaped. Wordless… that was the game. No hands and wordless. Two things Tony _never_ did. But, _“Fuck,”_ he whispered, still trying to hide the word on a breath. 

What Peter was doing was _incredible._ His cock was buried in Peter’s throat… and he was _holding_ it there. Longer… bless that little spider!… longer than _anyone_ had ever gone down on him before. It had to be _minutes_ now. 

“Oh fuck Peter.” Hiding his reaction on a breath? There was no hiding. That was an outright moan. And it was a long moan, far higher in pitch than usual. Didn’t even sound like him to his own hearing. It sounded like someone who was _gone._ Tony didn’t get _gone._ “OhgodPeter.”

_Oh_ that was nice. That was _very_ nice. Peter had planned on stopping when he got Tony to talk, and Tony had talked. Had sworn AND called out his name. But… but what if… wait… what _if_ he tried to count to 140?

He succeeded, then pulled up again. _Damn_ he really wished he could do this all in one continuous motion like Tony did but that pulling himself free was just part of the process. Maybe he could talk Tony into letting him practice more… 

He looked up at Tony as he wiped his chin again… okay next time he was definitely keeping a _towel_ on him for this part! And stopped for a moment, startled at what he saw. 

Tony looked like he was dying. For a moment Peter just stared. Then started to grin.

“What’s a’matter babe?” he said softly, wrapping his hand around the base of Tony’s cock and stroking him gently. “Am I doing it wrong?”

“Fuck you Parker,” Tony groaned, running the words together fast. “OhfuckPete,” he… whimpered?… nope… not whimpered. _Much._ “Do it again.” That wasn’t a command, it was a plea.

Peter took a deep breath, _wait,_ how had he been _forgetting_ to take a deep breath before doing this? He was an idiot. Then he went straight down and took Tony in as far as he dared. 

He used his hand now, wrapping it around the last impossible inches and began working the base. He couldn’t quite move his _head_ up and down, not with Tony pressing into _there_ , but he seemed to be getting quite a reaction with his hand. He wasn’t even counting seconds anymore. Any “hey-you’re-dying-dude” sensations he was getting from that crushing feeling in his throat were easily ignored. 

All he had to do was listen to the noises Tony was making now.

“Ohshitohshitohshit… fuck Pete… oh god, baby, yes.” Tony ground his hips in a tight circle, trying not to press in any deeper. Yet wanting to press in as far as he could go. But he always let Peter take it at his own pace. And damn, his own pace was great. And it was amazing with as little practice as Peter had. If he let Peter do this more often… god that would be… _overwhelming?…_ Tony didn’t _do_ overwhelmed. Not in _this_ way. Okay, maybe he _did_ do overwhelmed in _this_ way now.

Tony was saying _lovely_ things now, _very_ lovely things, things Peter wasn’t sure he had _ever_ heard before. He couldn’t possibly pull up now. He started working his hand harder, growling a little in frustration — oh, now _that_ was a remarkable sensation, growling _with_ Tony in his throat? And _Tony_ certainly seemed to enjoy it. Peter growled again. It was a good sound, a strong, _sexy_ sound. A confident sound. He did it again as he pushed Tony even further in.

“Pete?” Tony gasped out the name as a question. “Do you want me to come like this?”

Peter pulled up instantly, surprising both of them as he cried out “Oh _God_ no!” 

“Then _stop that!”_ Tony groaned with a smile. “You’re too damn good!”

Peter was reaching out with both hands, grabbing Tony’s head. He didn’t even bother wiping off his chin as he pulled their heads together, grinning and laughing breathlessly. 

He laughed in surprise and wonder, searching Tony’s face. For a moment there Tony looked a little… well… _‘gone’_ was the only word Peter knew for it. And Tony couldn’t be _gone_ yet. Peter needed something else first.

“I need you inside me Tony, _please.”_ He laughed at the absurdity of it all. Except he wasn’t exactly laughing. He still hadn’t caught his breath yet, and the noises he was making now sounded more like sobs.

Tony's head fell back, pressing on his arms, which were still crossed behind his head. He bit his lips trying to hold in his reaction to the idea of fucking Peter. And failed. “Yes,” he breathed. He finally took his hands from behind his head and wrapped his arms around Peter’s chest. “Wanna be deep inside you when I come. Wanna be kissing…” he kissed Peter lightly, “…that sinful mouth. Wanna feel those swollen lips on mine. Wanna hear you moan with that fucked out voice you’ve got right now. Yes. I need to be inside you, Peter. Fuck yes.” Not talking before, but definitely talking now. With a secret motive. Peter had him _so close_ with his mouth… he needed to dial that back or he’d start fucking and it would all be over, fast and hard and _quick._ And he didn’t want quick. He wanted to feel Peter around him as he moved inside _slow._

“I _gotta_ let you do that more often,” Tony said with a wicked grin. “Because, damn!” He chuckled. “And then being that it’s _**you**?_ Holy fuck, Pete. That’s _entirely_ unfair.”

Peter chuckled at that. At least, he wanted to chuckle. Wanted to say something like ‘now the tables have turned’. But he hadn’t caught his breath yet. In between showing how long he could hold his breath before AND his sudden laugh when he realized he couldn’t let Tony come — and then, there was the way he had been teasing that your-throat-is-being-crushed-now feeling over and over again; it felt great at the time but now it left him feeling shaky — Peter found he couldn’t do much at all. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, trying to take deep, calming breaths without Tony noticing.

Tony could see that Peter was overwhelmed. His senses might be going off suddenly, or dropping out. Either way… Tony knew what the kid needed. He reached down and helped Peter up to be on top of him. Then he rolled them both on their sides. Wrapping his arms around Peter’s chest, he tried to gauge from his reaction how much pressure he needed. Too much or too little wouldn’t calm him, wouldn’t reassure him that he was safe. And that’s what Tony always wanted to be to him — his ground. 

Tony kissed Peter lightly on the cheek. “Hey baby, I’ve got you. That was amazing, Pete. But I’m here now, okay? I love you so much.” He pressed his forehead to Peter’s forehead. “And you can still feel how much I want you,” he said with a little bit of wickedness to his smile. “What is it you need, baby?”

He didn’t trust himself to talk. He wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck and he went, goddammit, he _dove_ his head _right_ back into his old hiding place. He wrapped one leg around Tony’s waist before he said the words. He didn’t use many. He hated how small his voice sounded for the three words he _did_ use.

“You inside me.”


	11. Uncanny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony reached for the lube underneath the pillow. And was surprised when his hand came back with the bottle. 
> 
> He stared at it oddly. “What are _you_ doing here?” he asked, then answered himself. “Oh yeah. I _have_ fucked someone in this bed before.” He grinned at Peter.
> 
> Peter felt himself giggling a tiny bit when he remembered last night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is... **The End**.
> 
> Of both 'The Cold' and of the [Messages Series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558027). The series was planned to take place over one very important week in Peter and Tony's lives. 
> 
> We decided to move what we previously listed as Book 6 and Book 7, which take place at times other than this week, into the [Messages Interludes](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691347) series. What had been book 6 is now called **"The Opposite of Cold"** , just to give you a little title teaser for where we're headed.
> 
> We are so in love with this particular version of Peter and Tony that we _will_ continue to write in this 'verse. Probably for a long time yet.
> 
> Future stories won't be posted on the usual Thursday schedule of Messages, but when we finish them. We're still writing, but we need a bit of a celebratory break after completing the series we started back in November of 2019.

Tony gave a little moan and his hips writhed against Peter. “Oh yes.” Peter’s leg, higher than usual, all the way up around his waist, both of them tangled up in each other. Tony reached for the lube underneath the pillow. And was surprised when his hand came back with the bottle. 

He stared at it oddly. “What are _you_ doing here?” he asked, then answered himself. “Oh yeah. I _have_ fucked someone in this bed before.” He grinned at Peter.

Peter felt himself giggling a tiny bit when he remembered last night. He tried to hold it in. Giggling took air, and he wasn’t sure he had air to spare. 

He found himself needing to let go of Tony for a bit even now, just to let his lungs expand. They didn’t seem to be working in the oxygen department. He couldn’t say why, but it made him feel dizzy. He put his hand on Tony’s chest to keep him at bay for the moment as he tried it again. He looked at Tony, he grinned, and he breathed. 

Tony leaned back, loosening his hold around Peter’s chest, so he could better see that beautiful face he was so in love with. His features softened and he just watched the boy in amazement and wonder as he was struggling with his senses still. He was beautiful, but there were a million beautiful boys in the world. Peter was special. He was powerful, strong, and independent. He’d handled things alone at fifteen that grown men still struggled with in their thirties. Only now he didn’t have to do it alone. Tony didn’t have to do it alone. They were together. 

Peter let his eyes drift close. There they were, laying together, grinning and breathing in silence, naked and getting ready for more sex. It was lovely and odd and not at all awkward, and suddenly Peter was overwhelmed with how lucky he was at that moment, and he opened his mouth to say so.

“I was so fucking scared, Tony. I was afraid you wouldn’t want me anymore.” 

Wait, that wasn’t right.

“Baby, I’m gonna always want you.” He ran his fingers down Peter’s chest reassuringly. “I’m in love with you. Kinda the definition, y’know?” he added smiling. Gently this time, he moved Peter underneath him, holding his upper body away, balanced on his arms. “Only,” he said, trying to keep the smug self-confident smile to a minimum, and kinda failing. “Sometimes I want you in one _very_ specific way.” 

Tony bent his head and put a kiss in the middle of Peter’s chest, followed by a long lick up until he broke it to kiss the boy on the mouth, still holding himself up and away, since too much touch seemed to be an issue this time instead of wanting more. Yet he knew Peter well enough to know that there had to still be _some_ touching. He kept his kiss light and tender. Just like the boy beneath him was. Full of light and tenderness, even if he doubted himself lately. Tony knew. 

He used the distraction to reach for the lube he’d brought back. Unfortunately, they’d have to break apart because he either needed to be more down on top of Peter to use his hands, or he needed to be more far away to use his hands. As he sat back, he trailed those hands along either side of Peter’s body, firmly, but not pressing as hard as he sometimes did. “Baby, you’re as beautiful on dark red silk as you are on black.

Kneeling back on his haunches, he squirted the lube on his fingers. That was one of the best parts of sex with Peter. He’d never known anyone who liked fingering so much. And he’d never wanted to do it that much before. It was always done just as quickly as possible to get on to other things. Tony reached with his dry hand to raise Peter’s knee, spreading him more open. He ran his slick fingers beneath Peter’s balls, running them down his perineum with just enough pressure to give a small taste of the sensation that would soon be coming. Going lower, he brushed across the kid’s rim, rubbing the lube over it, slipping some inside with just the pads of his fingers.

Peter might always be _his virgin,_ but he was more of an experienced virgin now and took one finger easily so it was soon followed by a second. He pulled them out and slicked his cock, in doing so making his fingers even smoother and readying the third. For later. He still had a lot he wanted to do with just those two. He stretched himself back out over Peter, leaning a little more down, but staying at an angle balanced on one hand while the other found its way back to where he’d been. Inside of Peter, feeling his tightness loosen, letting his fingers enjoy the sensations there.

“Please, Tony, please…” Peter whispered, nuzzling against his face.

As much as he loved taking his time doing that, and really wanted to, Peter had been too damn good! When did he get that good with his mouth? The more Tony felt Peter deliberately tighten on his fingers, the needy little whimpers he made when Tony lowered himself more solidly onto Peter’s body. He wanted the touch they usually had and he hoped Peter felt the same. 

When Peter reached up for him… When Peter said ‘please’ like that… it was too much. Whenever Peter _wanted_ him… and showed it… Tony was already half gone from his mouth, but those sounds? Tony returned them with his own. Rather embarrassingly desperate low moans. Rocking his hips closer, pressing himself against Peter’s cock, against his thigh, against whatever he could frot along. He was getting jealous of his own hand for being inside of the boy.

“You’re hard for me… I need it, Tony…”

“You _make_ me want you, Pete,” he said, his voice lower than he expected it to, his words showing a little too much need of his own. He rested his cock in the palm of his hand below his fingers and let the tip of it brush there. “God I need to be inside of you. You…” He slowly slipped inside. Okay… maybe not as slowly as he wanted to, but… kinda slowly? “…will always be everything I want… Oh fuck Pete… god you had me so close…” He smiled. “Good thing I’m not a twenty-something college student.” His smile turned into a grin. 

“ _Please_ , I _need_ it Tony…” Peter whispered. He couldn’t stand to hear the sound of his own voice again, sounding so desperate, sounding so broken. He closed his eyes, buried his head in Tony’s shoulder and raised his hips, holding Tony as tightly as he dared.

“Oh baby. You’ve got me.” Tony started moving. He hitched Peter’s leg up higher and pushed forward, which raised his hips and gave him a better angle to give the kid what he seemed to desperately need that night. 

Too much soft and gentle was setting Peter’s senses off. That wasn’t what they’d been working up to before. Peter had him close and was showing off new talents, and god knows right then, pretty much the only idea in Tony’s mind was wanting to fuck Peter hard, fast, and for as long as he could manage to hold out. And sometimes… his body just kinda… won the debate.

He pushed forward, burying himself deep and then pushed forward still more, tilting Peter’s hips up further. He thrust with sharp snaps of his hips, slamming in with a hard grind and didn’t wait before doing it again. He wanted to kiss Peter, as always, but his kiss was hot and biting. And the kiss came with a growl of desire that he usually held well in check.

Tony crooked his forearm under Peter’s neck and his other hand grabbed the kid’s hip firmly, holding him in position so Tony was able to hit deep each time. There wasn’t air left for his sweet talking, just kissing and gasping and meeting Peter’s need with not a little of his own.

Peter moaned into the kiss and held on tightly. Soon his head was tucked into Tony’s shoulder and his face was buried in the safest place in the world. He didn’t need to worry about catching his breath now, it didn’t matter. Although sometimes he managed to whisper “Am I yours, Tony?”

Tony held Peter behind the neck. His fingers curled and he was probably holding on way too tightly. And he was probably thrusting in way too hard. And he _knew_ his hand on Peter’s hip was digging in so hard that anyone else would be bruised if not complaining about it right then. 

“Mine, Peter. You don’t get out of that. You don’t get to go. You don’t get to leave. You. Are. Mine.” He drove the last point home with his hips.

“Say it again.”

“I need you. You’re mine. You’re stuck with me.” He settled into a steady rhythm. “I don’t let go and you knew that about me from the beginning. So if you don’t need me, it’s too late. You have to find a place there for me. Because you’re mine.” 

With the grip on his neck, Tony took Peter out of his safe place in his neck and kissed the boy again. Less hard, but just as passionate. Then more gently, but firmly, guided Peter’s head back to _exactly_ where it belonged, in the crook of his neck. He held on to the kid tightly and started fucking him again. 

And Peter Parker — who could hurl an telephone pole with the force of a hurricane, who could cling to the skin of an airplane as it fell thousands of feet to the ground, who could fall ninety-six stories straight down — was now hiding his (wet) face the crook of Tony’s neck and whimpering “Say it again.”

“Baby, you’re mine,” he whispered in Peter’s ear while fucking him hard. He lost himself to that for a while. No matter how much he pretended he wasn’t like that anymore, there was a certain… he just blamed it on the difference between body need and mind need. But he knew that wasn’t right either. He just didn’t analyze that too hard because it wasn’t something he liked about himself. 

And he definitely liked the way his body needed Peter right in that moment. The desperate tone in Peter’s voice, made Tony feel like the kid still wanted him. Still _needed_ him. The way Peter was clinging to him, their bodies both taking control of the situation from whatever their noisy minds might want. 

“Fuck Pete.” When he came, Tony’s moan sounded more like one of Peter’s own. He hid any other embarrassing sounds in the boy’s shoulder with a bite harder than he’d ever given Peter before. 

Peter had dreamed for some time that Tony would let loose, would _really_ fuck into him hard someday. It was one of his many treasured fantasies when he had to take care of himself during their many weeks apart. (And if there were some porn videos to that effect, well, Tony didn’t need to know.) Now that it was happening (and oh, it was just as sweet as he had imagined) he could honestly do nothing but hang on for dear life.

Especially when the biting began.

“Yes, yes, _yes…_ ” Peter managed. He couldn’t remember other words. He had forgotten the English language. His eyes were wide and his mouth gaping. He tried to see Tony’s face but it was hidden… and Peter’s pounding heart soared.

Tony’s face was hidden in the safe place between Peter’s shoulder and his head. 

Peter wrapped his arms around his lover and grinned.

Soon Tony was relaxing in his arms, and Peter found he could move again. Over and over again he kissed the side of Tony’s face, whispering I love you’s and compliments and thanks. The last few nights in Tony’s arms had been amazing, but this? This was amazing on a whole new level. His head was swimming with all the things that had happened for the first time tonight, and all the possibilities that those first-time things could lead to. Tony had fucked him _hard_ tonight, and seemed to enjoy it. Peter’s heart pounded at the thought of what that could mean.

Of course, other parts of him were pounding too. In particular his throbbing erection, still pressed against Tony’s relaxing body.

“Oh, god Tony that was amazing. That felt amazing. Promise me you’ll do that again. You’ve never… oh… what are you… _oh…”_

Tony reached out and took Peter’s wrists in his hands. Quickly he brought both above the kid’s head. The limits of his newly-discovered strength did nothing to change the fact that Peter’s wrists were pale and delicate and Tony’s hand — that now grabbed both wrists in one — was larger, rougher, and _looked_ stronger. 

His free hand slipped between them and found Peter’s cock, slick with precome. He let go of Peter’s wrists so he could balance their bodies apart better to give him room to jerk Peter off. The minute the boy moved his arms, Tony’s hand went back and pinned Peter’s wrists again. He smirked, never said a word, but then let go.

Palming the wetness over the head of Peter’s cock, he deliberately went for the things he knew would make Peter whimper. When he did, Tony leaned up and teasingly nipped his bottom lip. His hand moved fast with the knowledge of a year’s worth of doing exactly this to the kid. The next time Peter made a sound, Tony’s hand stopped moving. When Peter’s moaning was under control again, Tony started moving his hand again. When Peter couldn’t contain himself anymore. When his hands fought to move, and his body writhed beneath him, and his sounds came on broken breaths, Tony didn’t stop, but he slowed down.

“What do you want, Pete?”

Peter’s whimper sounded like, “I wanna come for you, Tony.” 

It took everything Tony had to resist kissing him and finishing him off then. Instead he just brought him closer, not letting him quite get there.

“What do you _need,_ baby?”

Tony didn’t wait for an answer to slide his palm over the head and let his thumb drag just under the slit. Peter’s hand left its spot above him and he wrapped his arm around Tony’s chest. His other hand reached back to grip the headboard. He held both tightly as he came. His back arched and he pushed up with his legs and pulled down with the hand that held the bed. Doing both harder than he’d intended, Peter lifted them both off the bed. 

Which promptly snapped in two beneath them.

Peter was mortified but Tony just held him close, kissing the side of his face, nuzzling in his hair, telling him how much he loved him, heedless of the tumble of covers, sprawl of the mattress, and splinters on the floor. When Peter was calmer, well if not calmer, had at least retreated into Tony’s neck.

In the silent room they held onto each other, catching their breaths, trading I love you’s. Peter hid his tears in Tony’s shoulder, letting Tony rub his back as he waited for them to stop. They whispered speculation about who had heard the commotion, theories about who might be coming to investigate. Finally they both concluded that Sam and Bucky (certainly in bed together) might deem it wiser _not_ to investigate but inquire in the morning. Peter giggled at Tony’s suggestions at how that conversation might go. And yet the tears did not stop.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Peter groaned, finally pulling away to scrub away the moisture with both hands. “I’m _sorry_ Tony. It’s not the bed, it’s this… this weekend. All the things I knew I needed to tell you. God, I’ve been to other planets with you but… but coming here? I was just _scared_.”

“Of the things that you can do now? Oh Pete, I wish I had been there for you…”

“No, it’s not that. I mean it _is_ that because I didn’t know what would happen if it didn't stop… it might… but it's not that.”

He turned his head. He tried to speak without breaking down again. It wasn’t easy.

“You fell in love with a different person, Tony. And I didn’t know… I’m not saying you were wrong to do that but… but that…“ he sobbed and turned away. 

Tony nudged Peter to turn back to face him and waited until he had done so before he spoke. “I fell in love with Peter Parker. And I will always be in love with Peter Parker.” Tony brushed Peter’s hair away from his face where his tears were clinging to it. 

“But that Peter Parker _**liked**_ people, Tony. You think I was so strong when I was able to tell you ‘no’. But I had the courage to tell you ‘no’ because I really _did_ want to look out for the ‘little guy’. And I _did_. But I’m not that person anymore. And I wasn’t sure what you’d do if _that_ guy just disappeared.”

_“This_ Peter Parker is the same Peter you’ve always been. You’re changing, sure, body thought mind. I guess it _is_ scary. But baby, inside, deep inside, you’re the same, always _are_. I can feel it.” He thought about the things he felt when he kissed him. “I can taste it on you,” he said smiling softly. “You have… it’s not purity because you’re human and you’re growing and your world has gotten so much bigger. Space, universe, time… so much bigger. But you’re still you, baby. It’s not purity, but it’s… I don’t know any other word for it. Grace. It’s there inside you. Always. Still. And even…” He paused and looked away. “No matter what… even…” He looked back and sucked his lips in before he spoke. “Even if you break… even if you…” He bit his lip again. “You’re like me… Peter, there is absolutely no way I won’t love you.” 

Peter pulled Tony into a crushing embrace, holding him there for a moment before letting go and touching their foreheads together. “I need you, Tony. My life is insane and unnatural and bizzare and… what’s that word? _Uncanny_. And it’s hell and I can’t do it without you. I need you on my side and I just _need_ you, Tony. I’m sorry my life turned into this freaking mess… I’m sorry I’m a freak.” 

“Your life might be a freaking mess, but you are not a freak. Baby, you’re just changing and it’s uncharted territory. But I know you. You’re not a freak. You’re the biggest _control freak_ I know of, outside myself. And right now, you’re not in control. That’s what’s scary.” 

“Oh _god_.” Peter looked up, startled, blinking. “You’re right… “ Peter closed his eyes and shuddered. “You’re so completely right. That’s it… that’s _all_ of it. _God_ you’re smart. It keeps happening…” He hid his face in Tony’s neck. “It keeps happening and I can’t _control_ it…” He looked up from his safe place and looked around the room in despair. “Case in point. Tony? 

“Where are we going to sleep tonight?” Peter asked.

“Don’t college students sleep on mattresses on the floor?” 

“Where… by the bathroom? I can put the mattress anywhere you want. I’m strong.”

“How about outside New-Cap and Barnes’ door?” Tony asked with a wicked smile.

“And listen to them bang each other all night? No thanks.”

“We can go for round two and see who’s louder? Bet we’d win.” 

“I’m _not_ competing with those two! We win by default. We win because we’re awesome.”

“I gotta make a stronger bed when we get home.” Tony said with a wink. “Vibranium. Definitely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those of you who have taken this journey with us. Kudos leavers, commenters, and readers all are so very much appreciated. Knowing you were out there really kept us going when we struggled.
> 
> We will continue to write and create, both as separate individuals and as collaborators. If you want to see what bubbles to the surface of our minds, give [thewitchway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchway/pseuds/witchway) and [von_gelmini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/von_gelmini/pseuds/von_gelmini) a subscribe hit.
> 
> **Messages**. It began as a 366 word drabble. And it became this series. Seven months, five books, and nearly 100,000 words. You have our love for having reached this point with us.

**Author's Note:**

> You can't leave more kudos, so leave a <3 as a 2nd one.
> 
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> 
> Comments are soooooooooo easy. Just cut and paste your favorite line!
> 
> Witchway's Starker blog on tumblr is [thestarkerisobvious](https://thestarkerisobvious.tumblr.com/).  
> Von's Starker blog on tumblr is [starker-stories](https://starker-stories.tumblr.com/).  
> Come on by and visit us.


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